


Mother of Tides

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Nights in Sandbridge [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Steve/Nat, Domestic violence not related to miscarriage, M/M, Miscarriage, Miscarriage not related to Surrogate Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Surrogate Pregnancy, background Clint/Bobbi, background Janet/Hank, background Wanda/Sam, domestic abuse (offscreen), domestic violence (offscreen), just a lot of shit happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony and Bucky are used to rolling with whatever comes their way, so when Jan turns up two days before Christmas with her twin infants in tow, they make her welcome. The babies are a handful, but they’re also adorable and easy to love. Tony's mother takes one look at them doting on the kids and recalls certain arrangements that Howard had put into place, long since mothballed, along with all of Howard’s other plans for Tony. But maybe, she thinks, it’s time to dust this one off.In the meantime, not everyone’s marriages are as solid as Bucky and Tony’s. Barney Barton turns up to stir the shit between Clint and Bobbi, and what’s going on with Jan and Hank?





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark-Barnes knew that Christmas had arrived not when the stores started putting up decorations or playing the same old Christmas music constantly (they started doing that in October these days, for crying out loud!) and not when his husband dragged out their fake tree and hung Nat’s horrific Christmas spiders all over it, but when his adopted daughter bounced out of bed at eight in the morning on a vacation day to drag the door open and demand of Maria Stark, “Grandmama! Did you bring me some presents?”

Bucky rolled over, dragged the blankets over his head, and muttered, “Your mother’s here.”

Tony whimpered and thought something vaguely unkind at both his husband and his mother, but he shoved off the blankets, located a tee and straightened out his sweats, then padded out into the living room still rubbing his eyes. “Mom,” he groaned, “it’s eight in the morning. What the hell.”

Billie, who was really too old to be jumping on the sofa in excitement, but knew that neither of her fathers were likely to say anything about it that early in the morning as long as she wasn’t yelling, leaped into Phil Coulson’s arms. Maria’s bodyguard caught her with easy grace. “Hello, Miss Barnes.”

“Uncle Phil!” Okay, so Billie’s idea of yelling and Tony’s idea of yelling-before-coffee were slightly different decibels. “Have you shot any bad guys recently?” Tony rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen to start the coffee. If he was going to deal with his mother at this hour, he needed lots and lots of coffee.

“Fortunately, we’ve had a complete absence of certain not-very-gentleman-like callers for the last few months,” Phil said, very seriously. The man was utterly deadpan, and it was often hard to tell if he was joking or not. “We did have one very rude maitre d', but we accepted an apology after a bit of fuss.”

Tony poured out three mugs of coffee and one of juice, and took them all back out to the living room, handing them around with what was now several years’ practice as backup waitstaff. “Cream and sugar’s in the kitchen, Phil; sorry, I don’t have a service tray up here.” He poked at Billie with one toe. “Come have some juice and stop sniffing around Mom’s luggage. You _know_ she brought presents, that’s what she _does_ , but it’s polite to pretend you’re happy to see the _person_ , too.”

“Nonsense,” Maria said, taking her mug from Tony and wrapping her hands around it as if for the warmth. “I’m certain Billie’s _delighted_ to see me, aren’t you dear?”

“Mmmhmmm, deeeeeelighted,” Billie agreed. She peeked in Maria’s cup, which was half milk, half sugar and just enough coffee to pretend, then looked at her juice. “Can I have a coffee instead?”

“No,” Bucky said, coming out of the back room. He’d actually brushed his hair and put on clothes, and when he leaned in to kiss Tony, smelled like mouthwash. “No coffee until you’re at least as tall as Auntie Nat. This is a rule, and we’re not making exceptions just because it’s Christmas.”

Billie took her juice and sulked a little, watching where the adults were putting their cups down with the avid eyes of an eagle.

“Mom,” Bucky said. “Did we make plans that I forgot about?”

“No,” Maria said blithely. “I just thought I should take Billie shopping before the _big day_ so she can get you two something suitable.”

“You decided randomly to just pop down from New York?” Tony asked, eyebrows arched. “What did you do, catch a five o’clock flight?” He glanced over at Phil in pained sympathy.

“Something like that, dear,” Maria said. “I had Happy make the arrangements and drop us at the airport. The sunrise is simply stunning from the air, did you know?”

“Uncle Bucky spends all his time in airplanes like this,” Billie said, gripping the arm of the couch and scrunching her nose up like she expected to crash into a mountain.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, that’s very flattering,” Bucky retorted, rolling his eyes. “Now, go put on clothes that aren’t Voltron pajamas so you can go shopping with your grandmother. You know, assuming there’s anything left to buy after the black Friday sales this year.” Billie galloped off to her room, leaving her barely-touched juice behind. “Watch your coffee. She will steal it if she thinks you’re not looking.” He directed a raised eyebrow and knowing glance in Tony’s direction.

“Best reason for taking it black,” Tony pointed out, “is that no one wants to steal it from me.” He grinned back at Bucky, then eyed his mother. “Try not to buy anything for _her_ , since Christmas is in two days and we’ve already _done_ our shopping.” They’d taken Billie shopping for her to pick out things to give them, too, but there was no way Maria was listening to that argument.

“Just a few little things,” Maria promised. “Maybe some clothes; I’m sure you two just can’t summon the enthusiasm for that very much.”

“ _She_ picked out the pajamas,” Tony protested. Maria had been in the house all of ten minutes and was already judging. “This is Virginia, Mom, it’s okay if she’s not wearing Van Dyne to sleep in.”

Maria’s sniff let him know what she thought about _that_ opinion.

Billie knew which side her bread was buttered on, though, because she came back out wearing a green crushed velvet dress and her glitter covered silver flats, carrying her brush and a couple of ribbons in one hand. “I don’t have tights to go with this--” She _did have_ tights, last week, when they gotten the outfit, but then she’d worn them with shorts on and Lucky had jumped on her and torn them, but Tony wanted it noted that he’d actually bought tights “--and I need you to hold my hair.” She handed Maria the ribbons and made a somewhat messy, but much better, attempt to braid her hair that was only mostly lopsided.

“Well, you’re getting much better at that!” Maria said brightly. “Let me just smooth out the ends a little for you and I’ll tie on the ribbons.” She tugged at one too-thin strand of hair, making the whole thing slightly less lopsided, and tied on the ribbons neatly. Tony was one hundred percent certain that if it had been his hair, she’d have knocked his knuckles with the comb and made him do it over. Being a grandparent had made Maria soft.

“How long do you think you’ll be?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Until we’re done, dear,” Maria said. She patted Billie’s hair. “There, you look just lovely. We’ll stop and get you some tights first thing, and I thought -- are you too old to see Santa?”

“We can get pictures!” Billie suggested. “Everybody always likes pictures of me. I’m their _favorite_.”

“That’s because you’re th’ only kid around,” Bucky said, snatching her up and kissing her noisily on one cheek. “They all spoil you so rotten, it’s a wonder we ain’t got turkey vultures on th’ roof.”

“How dreadful,” Maria said, touching her fingertips to her breastbone in a delicate display of horror. “Don’t listen to him, darling. It’s because you’re the very best, of course. Though I suppose if there were other children, you would have someone to play with.”

“Mom,” Tony groaned. “She’s got friends to play with. If someone around here started having kids now, they’d be too young for her to play with.”

“Yeah, I w’s almost thirteen years younger than m’ sister. Your mama,” Bucky told Billie, which she knew already, but after the first couple of months, Billie liked hearing about her mom, so Bucky tried to bring her up whenever he could. “We didn’t always get on too well, but I remember one amazing snowball fight we had, when your uncle Steve an’ I were about nine or so? We set up a snowtrap on th’ roof and she walked right under it.”

“I’m only _eight_ ,” Billie said, like this was important somehow. It usually was said the other way around, when she wanted to stay up late, or watch a movie that was out of her age bracket. She wriggled around until Bucky put her back on the floor. “But, Uncle Steve taught me how t’ scramble an egg!” She told Maria this -- who probably _didn’t_ actually know how to scramble an egg -- with no small amount of pride.

“Well, that’s certainly quite the accomplishment!” Maria said gamely. “I think that deserves some sort of reward. Come on, we’ll talk about it in the car where your uncles won’t try to tell us no.”

Billie gave Tony a quick hug and smacked his cheek with a kiss before saying in her not-quite-whisper, “You’re my favorite today! Don’t tell Uncle Bucky!” and then ran over to Bucky and did exactly the same routine, except chided him not to tell Uncle Tony, before all but dragging her grandmother out of the house.

Phil shook his head. “So, neither of you are the actual favorite, then?”

Tony shrugged. “Your guess is as good as ours. We still haven’t figured out if she realizes we can both hear everything.”

Bucky waved them out, then said, in all seriousness, to Tony, “We probably don’t pay that man enough.” He locked the door and leaned on it.

“Almost certainly not,” Tony agreed. He tipped his head, studying Bucky’s expression. It wasn’t a smile, not quite, but it was close to pleased, nevertheless. Tony felt sparks firing under his skin, but played it cool, sipping his coffee. “Something on your mind?”

“Well….” Bucky peered at him from under lowered lashes. “We’ve got th’ house to ourselves for a bit… I could give you your Christmas present early.”

Tony knew that look all too well. “Could you? I don’t know,” he teased. “That’s got to be against some kind of rule.” He wound his arms around Bucky’s neck and leaned into Bucky’s solid warmth. “But I might be convinced to make an exception.”

“Well,” Bucky said, tipping his head to one side, “if you really like it, I can give you ‘nother one, later. It’s a renewable resource an’ all.”

“Hmm, that’s true. And maybe I should try it on for size. Make sure it fits.” Tony said that with his lips brushing against Bucky’s, his weight pressing Bucky harder against the door.

Bucky slid one hand down Tony’s back, taking a generous handful of Tony’s ass, pulling them closer together. “Mmmmhmmm,” he murmured. “I’d hate t’ have to take it back, day after…” He was grinning so hard that kissing got a little difficult. “Sorry, no. No, that metaphor’s just dead. Take it out back an’ shoot it.” He laughed again, then kissed Tony’s mouth, light and teasing. “Gonna take you back t’ bed and make you scream.”

“I like this plan,” Tony said. His dick was _definitely_ getting on board with this plan. He ground up against Bucky to illustrate how much he liked the plan. “You get to scream in this plan, too, right? I like it when you scream, too.” He took a step back, hand fisted in Bucky’s shirt to pull his husband along.

Something thudded against the front door several times as they got halfway across the living room. It sounded like someone was kicking it. “Ug… Billie probably forgot somethin’. Hold that thought,” Bucky groaned. He glanced down at Tony, wearing yesterday’s tee and sweatpants, as he adjusted his jeans. “Go on back, I got this.”

That was probably for the best; boxer-briefs and sweatpants made his erection particularly visible, a tent at the front of his groin. “Don’t take too long,” Tony said. He waggled his eyebrows ridiculously to make Bucky laugh, then turned away, knowing Bucky would watch his rear until he was well out of sight.

He pushed the bedroom door closed in case Billie had to come all the way inside for whatever she’d forgotten, and stripped off his clothes -- no sense making that take longer than necessary, when there were so many other delightful things they could be doing with a quiet morning. He’d just kicked off his underwear when he realized the voice he was hearing was... not Billie’s. Or his mother’s. Or Phil Coulson’s.

“... yeah, got ‘im,” Bucky said, and the voice that rose up after that was a high pitched cry that started soft, almost hesitant and then let loose with a wail. “Hang on there a secon’, babygirl, that’s a big noise for such a little girl…” Bucky was coming down the hall, and the loud screaming was getting… louder.

“...rry, he hasn’t been fed yet, an’... oh, ug, I’m leaking all over the place, sorry, can I just... duck in your bathroom here. Hold him--”

“Jan, I only got two arms,” Bucky complained. “Tony, babe…”

Well, fuck. Or, more precisely, _not_ fuck. Tony sighed and pulled his boxer-briefs and sweats back on.  He opened the door to find Bucky standing in the hall, one of Jan’s twins in each arm, bouncing them gently and looking slightly desperate. “It’s the day for unexpected visitors, I guess,” Tony said. He held out his hands and let Bucky hand off the little boy to him.

The tyke had gotten bigger since Tony’s last trip to New York, a month or so ago. Which was a stupid observation; of _course_ he’d gotten bigger. That was what babies did, or so he’d been led to believe. Wailing aside, he smelled nice, too. Tony tried the weird little bouncing motion Bucky was doing. It didn’t seem to help. “Jan,” Tony called, “not that I’m not thrilled to see you, darling, but what are you doing here? Where’s Hank?”

Jan threw the door to the bathroom open and Bucky made a startled sound before turning away. She wasn’t wearing her shirt and her usually moderate-sized breasts were both huge and on display. “ _Working_ ,” she said. “Here, give me Henry, and I’ll get him fed, if you don’t need the bathroom for a bit.”

“I c’n get you a zip-up hoodie or somethin’ if you want to nurse in the living room,” Bucky offered.

She blinked, her mouth twisting into a trembling sort of smile. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, finally. “If it won’t make you uncomfortable, darlings, I--”

“It’s just us,” Bucky said. He was still blushing a bit, because it was Bucky and he had been raised with a certain degree of decorum.

“Come on,” Tony said. He handed over the boy in his arms. “How many times have we been undressed? It’s fine. You go get started and I’ll bring you something to keep you warm.” He shooed her back toward the living room. Why the sudden modesty? Jan had never gone to any lengths to hide her body from him before; had never understood why anyone would bother with such an outdated notion.

Well, her body _had_ changed rather a lot, both during and since the pregnancy; maybe she was feeling a little shy about it. He went back into the bedroom and rummaged for his most oversized hoodie. He turned around to bring it to her and stopped dead.

Bucky was still standing in the hallway, just outside the bedroom door, the girl in his arms. She’d stopped crying and was blinking sleepily up at Bucky as he rocked and bounced her. He was rumbling nonsense at her, his lips curved into a soft smile. It was, hands-down, the most precious, _beautiful_ thing Tony had ever seen.

“Huh,” Tony said, because it felt like the air had literally been knocked out of him. “Baby makes a good accessory for you, babe.”

“She’s a cutie, all right,” Bucky said. “Yes, yes, she is.”  

Jan was tucked up on the sofa, her feet underneath her, and one of the pillows in her lap. “They don’t eat at the same time anymore. I swear, I feel like an _absolute cow_. It’s been so boring. On the plus side, I did finally listen to all those audiobooks. My to-read stack is down to almost manageable levels.” With a little help, she got into the hoodie without bothering Henry’s meal in the slightest. “Sorry about this… I know I should have called, but…” She made an incoherent, annoyed sound and gestured with one hand that explained exactly nothing.

Tony dropped onto the far end of the sofa. “Anytime, really. I won’t say a _little_ warning wouldn’t have been a good idea, but you’re always welcome. But really, what’s going on? It’s almost Christmas!”

“Oh, Hank’s got a thing,” she said, waving her hand. “An engineering… thing. I don’t know. It’s not going well, and it’s a year-end sort of project. You know how he gets, fussing and everything. And I swear, it’s like these two can smell stress or something. So Hank gets frustrated and then one of them starts up, and then the other one, and… we just need a little time apart. Papa is already in Venice for the holidays, and I didn’t feel like puttering around by myself. So I thought… who would have some fun and out-of-the-house stuff to do and won’t get all --” She crossed her eyes and screwed up her mouth in distaste. “--like that if I brought a couple of children along. You’d think that some of my friends were born fully-formed dysfunctional adults or something.”

Bucky settled into one of the other chairs, bouncing Hope on his knee. “It’ll be good,” Bucky said. “Maria just showed up like an hour ago. She took Billie off t’ go shopping. I’m honestly surprised Maria can find anything to purchase anymore, I think she’s bought half of downtown already. Where are you stayin’?”

Jan made a face. “Nowhere, yet. I just got in town.”

“I’ll call around,” Tony said, “and see what we can find to put you up in style. Clint and Bobbi are in town for the holiday, so I’m afraid the rental is already in use.”

Jan looked up and gave Tony the huge eyes. “What about the garage apartment? It’s just such a pain to get two car seats into the back, and then out and up the stairs and… I swear, I thought being pregnant was hard, but, you know, I want to be close to you. I miss _people_ , Tony. I’m in the house all the time and I just get… I don’t know. The doctor said it might be a little post-pregnancy letdown or something. But if I have to drive back and forth from the beach, I might just sit in a hotel all day. In sweatpants and your hoodie, comfortable as it is.” She fingered the material absently.

“Sure,” Tony said. “It’s... _tiny_ , though. Are you sure it’ll be enough for the three of you?”

“Despite numerous complaints, I really don’t take up much more space than I used to. I’ve got the stuff down to a reasonable level. Me and the portable bassinet. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’m not too much trouble, right? I mean, it’s reasonable and everything?” Jan didn’t do anxious very well, and the way she was twisting the end of Tony’s hoodie in her hand reminded him a bit of the way she used to pace behind the curtain right before a catwalk premier.  

“Of course it is,” Tony assured her. Post-pregnancy letdown including increased anxiety, maybe? She’d never been worried about her welcome before. “We’ll help with the babies all we can, too. We missed this stage with Billie, and they’re so adorable. Well, when they’re not screaming.” He grinned and winked to make sure she knew he was kidding, a signal she wouldn’t have needed a year ago.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Bucky said. “Full house for Christmas. Billie will be _thrilled_.”   

“Oh, god, yeah,” Tony agreed. “She won’t leave your side for an instant, as long as you’ve got the babies in hand. You should see her with her friend Bryan’s little brother. It’s adorable.”

Jan sniffled, wiping one hand under her eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “It’ll be great. We’ll have fun, I just know it.”

“Don’t we always?” Tony flashed a grin at Jan, but couldn’t stop watching Bucky bouncing Hope. God, that was sexy.

“Yeah,” Jan managed, and then she was actually leaking and wiping her eyes with the end of the hoodie. “Sorry, it’s just been… uggggg. I’m fine, I’m fine, sorry. Just tired, I guess. Jumped in the car with the babies at… what time even is it now?” She heaved a sigh and scowled. “And I’m hungry again. Can I… I don’t know, get a spoonful of peanut butter or something? It’s hard to eat one handed and not drop food on the babies.”

“You’re at th’ best place in th’ world for one-handed food,” Bucky said. “Billie eats all sorts of stuff out of crinkly packages for school snacks. I got peanut butter crackers and apple chips?” He balanced Hope against his shoulder while digging through the cabinets before bringing Jan out a variety of finger food. Bucky wasn’t quite Steve, who would have already been making up some sort of custom designed panini or something, but the two of them _fed people_.

Tony, as the only one in the room with both hands free, took it on himself to open several of the packages and dump them out onto a plate for Jan. “There you go. We’ll get some proper food into you when we get a chance.” Apparently Tony was turning into someone who _fed people_ , too. At least a few people. “You must have driven all night to get here. You might need a nap more than food, at this point.”

Jan sighed. “Yeah, sleep, what’s that?” She patted Henry on the back a few times until the boy burped. “Lemme see Hope, or I’ll get all lopsided.” She handed off the boy and took her daughter, getting comfortable and switching which side of the hoodie was opened.

“What happened to your arm?” Bucky didn’t quite lean forward -- Jan’s boobs were still out and he was adorably shy about it -- but it looked like he wanted to.

Jan shrugged, getting Hope latched on. “Two kids means two car seats; the doorways just aren’t that wide.”

Freshly-fed, Henry was warm and pleasant-smelling and adorable. Tony shifted the bundle of baby against his chest and petted the downy hair with one finger. So _soft_. Half-guiltily, he caught up to the conversation. “What’s that?” He looked over to see the bruise Bucky was still looking at, right at the top of her arm. “Ow. You need anything for that?”

“Sure,” Jan said, easily. “You can be my houseboy while I’m here and open the door for me. Carry heavy things. Not talk about customer SLAs. Whatever that means.”

“Service Level A--nothing. It means nothing,” Tony corrected, at Jan’s glare. “We’ll certainly help out all we can. You want to leave the babies over here while you get set up and get some rest, when you’re done there?” Fuck it; if he wasn’t going to get laid again until after Christmas, then he might as well get to enjoy playing with the twins.

“You’re the best,” Jan said. “The absolute _best_.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “A nap, a shower, and no babies for an hour? That’d be the best Christmas present you could give me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Ready?” Bucky had the pot of melted marshmallow glue and a knife ready.

Jim Rhodes -- pretty much Rhodey to everyone at Dockside -- who was holding the two gingerbread roof pieces, one in each hand, nodded. The marshmallow goop dried fast. Which was good, in that it meant no one had to stand there and hold the pieces for fifteen minutes while the icing set, and bad in that if they were too slow, or they got the pieces down cock-eyed, it’d dry before they had time to move them.

The buzz of conversation in the other room was loud. Sometimes Bucky wished that there was a way to expand his house, because right now there were way too many people in his living room, with another three or four rotating in and out of the kitchen. He’d given Nat an entire bag of her favorite Christmas candies just to have her stand guard over the trays of decoration for Steve’s castle. She took her obligations seriously and Bruce was nursing a red mark on the back of his hand where she’d swatted him with a wooden spoon.

In the other room, one of the twins started howling, wails rising above the general level of conversation.

Bucky slathered marshmallow goo along the top of the walls. “Don’t look that way,” he said to Rhodey. “The baby will still be crying in thirty seconds, but you’ll be scraping cold marshmallow off this wall if you miss the opportunity.”

They got the roof pieces settled and Bucky put the goop back in the double-boiler to keep it warm.

The baby’s cries ceased with a suddenness that made Bucky wonder if someone had taken the baby outside or something. “Hold that, at least two minutes,” he told Rhodey and then ducked into the living room.

Tony was holding Henry -- the screamer, if the still-red face meant anything -- and was “helping” him play peek-a-boo with Billie. Billie took her hands from her face and squeaked something Bucky couldn’t make out over the general noise in the room, except that it was in that high-pitched “talking to babies” voice she’d acquired within two seconds of meeting Jan’s kids. Henry hiccuped and then grinned, a wide, toothless expression of joy that was practically incandescent. Tony laughed and said something low to Billie, who was swelling with pride.

Bucky swallowed down a lump in his throat. Tony was so unselfconsciously gorgeous, happy and surrounded by kids. Bucky’d never quite managed it, that easy-going parental mode. He was always terrified that he was going to mess it up, except when Tony was around, to kinda file the rough parts over. He leaned against the doorframe, just watching. Wishing he could capture the moment, just as it was, so he’d have it forever. It was a strange ache in his chest, the way happiness and wistfulness mixed up and squeezed around his heart. And then Tony looked up, caught Bucky staring, and smiled, his eyes warm and brilliant.

_Love you_ , Bucky mouthed at him, knowing that there was no way he could talk loud enough to be heard. Fatherhood was a good look on Tony.

Tony smiled wider, eyes lighting up. _Love you too_ , he mouthed back, with a wink. In his arms, Henry managed to wriggle free of the blanket swaddling, and the little face scrunched up in fury. Tony immediately turned his attention back to the baby, crooning something as he laid Henry on the floor to re-wrap the swaddling -- what they’d taken to calling the “baby burrito”. Henry seemed to prefer being kept wrapped, while Hope preferred a freer rein to wave her arms around.

Not far away, Maria was watching avidly, her eyes sparkling with some mischief even as she carried on polite conversation with Betty and Jan. Bucky wondered if Jan’s kids were about to acquire a second godmother.

“You gon’ come help with this gingerbread monstrosity,” Rhodey asked, “or you gonna keep undressin’ Tony with your eyes?”

Bucky scowled theatrically. “I’ll remind you that you said that, tomorrow, when Carol arrives. _Loudly_. In front of her father.”

Rhodey squeaked. “She didn’t say her dad was coming to Christmas dinner here.”

Truth was, General Danvers probably _wasn’t_ , although they’d invited the whole family. Gillian Danvers was Maria’s best friend, and Carol had been running flights out of Oceania for the last five months or so, but the Air Force always seemed to come up with something for the General to do at the last moment. Either that, or Carol’s dad was still awkward about spending time with Howard’s widow.

Bucky only hummed thoughtfully at that, but he went back into the kitchen, throwing one more longing look back at his husband, to finish castle construction. “You two ever going to settle down together?”

“Man, how much does Tones pay you to harass me about gettin’ hitched?” Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Married people are the _worst_. Don’t you have better things to do aside from play matchmaker?”

Bucky thought about that for all of two seconds. “Not really, no,” he decided. “So, June weddings are nice.”

He was _almost_ not surprised when Rhodey started pelting him with gummy bears.

***

Tony was a genius. Certified and everything. Eidetic memory, superior grasp of complex concepts, all of it. He distinctly remembered, when he’d been at MIT, breezing through his homework and not bothering to pay a lot of attention in class.

The local college that he’d chosen as the best option for the technical skills he’d always been most interested in was not up to MIT’s standards. Well, what was? But for the first time, Tony found himself struggling with his homework.

Possibly, that had something to do with the environment. At MIT, he’d lived in the dorms with Rhodey. While they’d gotten into plenty of fun scrapes together, Rhodey had been very serious about his schoolwork, and so Tony could count on at least a couple of hours every evening of quiet in which to knock out his work.

These days, a couple of _minutes_ of quiet was asking a lot. They’d hired some extra help for Dockside specifically so Tony would have time to work on his degree (and even if they could afford it easily, it still made Tony feel a little guilty, like he’d brought strangers into their family home). But even with the extra help, there were still plenty of times that Tony needed to step in to help out. Or when helping Billie with _her_ homework took precedence over doing his own.

Or both.

By the time Tony managed to get Dockside back out of the weeds, schooled the new assistant manager in the intricacies of the fussy American Express reader, and walked Billie through a bank of word problems, he’d completely lost his train of thought for his Mechanics Design homework and had to start back at the top of the assignment.

Naturally, that was when someone knocked at the door.

“Ugggg,” he complained. He looked up, but Billie had retreated to her room, having learned the previous semester that Uncle Tony was not to be bothered for anything but homework or emergencies when he was doing _his_ homework. He sighed, threw down his pencil, and stomped to the door in poor grace.

The peephole he’d installed showed a young woman, dark-haired and buxom and not at all familiar. Probably a new vendor representative or a salesperson; they sometimes thought the top floor of Dockside was an office rather than a home. It wasn’t an unreasonable guess, though this was a little late in the day for them to turn up. He unlocked the door and dragged it open. “Yes?”

The woman looked up from a stack of papers attached to a clipboard and blinked. “Oh, _wow_ ,” she said, then, “Anthony Stark?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, blinking in surprise. The vendors never had his name, just Bucky’s.

“Huh, coulda warned a girl,” she said. “You’re almost cute enough to do it the old fashioned way. Hi, I’m Darcy Lewis.” She shuffled her papers, pen, and an enormous scarf that was sliding off her neck before finally getting her hand free and offering it to Tony. “I wasn’t sure what your schedule looked like, but they’ve got openings on the books for Wednesday at three, and Friday at eleven in the morning, so if either of those work for you, that’s great.”

Tony took her hand on autopilot, but it took him a minute to assemble her words, and they... still didn’t make any sense. “I’m sorry, I... have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh,” she said, and smacked herself in the forehead, which cost her the clipboard and pen. She scrambled around on the porch for them, and then popped back up. “Feh, I’m an idiot. Look, can I come inside? I was in New Mexico for the last several months, and it’s _cold_ down here.”

“What? Oh! Yeah, sure, come on in.” Tony stepped back to let her come in past him. “Don’t mind the mess,” he said, quickly clearing stuff off the spots that they didn’t usually sit in and therefore had become storage places by default. “We’re still getting everything back to normal from the holidays.”

“Understandable. My mom… well, I have five brothers and a sister, so, well, my mom was all _ongepotchket_ for Hanukkah this year, since we were alllll home,” Darcy said. “Anyway… the doctor’s appointment. If you can’t make it this week, we’ll have to wait ‘til next month. There’s a time limit on the little guys, you know.” She started digging through her paperwork and finally found a few sheets of calendar paper. “Here’s where I can catch --” she indicated a bank of days, starting Saturday and ending on Tuesday. “-- _probably_. I’ve been on the Clomid all month and it’s making me crazy, I gotta say.”

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony admitted, though he was beginning to get a sinking feeling. “Could you maybe... back up some? Start with what you’re here for and who sent you and stuff like that?”

She stared at him for a moment, then, “I’m _Darcy Lewis_ ,” like she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her the first time. “Your surrogate. We’re supposed to make pretty, pretty babies together.”

Oh, god.

He couldn’t think any other words for a few moments, so he went ahead and said them. “Oh, god.” He stared until she started to look slightly uneasy, like maybe he was the _wrong_ Anthony Stark, and that shook him out of it. A little. “I, my dad said... but I thought that was just him being _him_. I didn’t realize, when he said _arrangements_... I mean, he’s been dead for couple of years now. I figured it...” He was rambling, and veering dangerously close to outright babbling. “I’m sorry,” he backtracked. “No one told me your name, and a surrogate was not my idea. I thought Mom had scrapped it along with the rest of Dad’s insane plans for me.”

Horrified didn’t even begin to cover the expression on her face. She smacked her hand over her mouth and her eyes were enormous. “You didn’t _know_?” She made a squeaking, protesting sort of noise. “But… but I sent a whole… thing. Pictures and my resume, and family history and my interests and everything. _You picked me_! There were dozens of applicants, I was told. I’ve been on call for _seven months_!”

“Seven...” Tony felt his eyes narrow. “ _Mom_.” He put his hand over his face. “Pretty sure you’ve been dealing with my mother,” he sighed. “She’s... avidly interested in being a grandmother. And apparently she wants more than the one she’s already got.”

“ _Vey is mir!_ ” Darcy took a step backward and fell into one of the chairs. She started fanning herself with the sheaf of papers like she was going to pass out. “What you must think of me! I’m… oh, I’m _terribly sorry_ , I. I. I thought you picked me. You were supposed… I already told my family!” Her eyes widened again -- and Tony became concerned that they might actually pop out of her head-- “What… what about the money? I mean, you’re a nice enough looking guy and all that, but… _I turned down that internship_ because I was supposed to take a year off to have a baby!” Her voice rose up into a plaintive wail.

“Oh, god, please don’t panic,” Tony begged. The last thing he needed was Billie coming to investigate and figuring out the situation. Billie had been utterly enchanted with Jan’s twins during their visit, and had spent the subsequent weeks trying to find a way -- _any_ way -- for Tony and Bucky to give her a sibling. “If Mom set you up to spring this on me and didn’t even _tell_ you, then Mom can darned well just pay you whatever she promised. And we’ll get you back to New Mexico, or wherever you want to go. I’m _really_ sorry. Mom... I’ll talk to her. That was not okay.”

“I turned down an internship with _Jane. Foster_!” Darcy’s voice was doing that… thing again. High-pitched and squeaky, spiraling up. “She… do you even know who Jane Foster is?” She clapped her hand over her mouth again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I… it’s the glasses, right? You want smart babies, and I’m not even acting like I have half a brain, but I promise, I do! I went to Vassar for my undergrad work.” She was digging in her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses, which she put on and blinked at him a few times.

“It’s not you,” Tony said, feeling a bit lost. “I’m sure you’re great, perfect for the job, it’s just... We hadn’t even been thinking about babies at all. This is totally out of left field for me, here. Maybe Dr. Foster will still have that opening, if you tell her your other job sort of fell through?”

Darcy gave Tony a flat, exasperated look. “ _Jane Foster_ ,” she hissed at him. “Right. Fine. I get it. This is another one of those… cosmic jokes or something. I’ll just… get out of your hair. Sorry. I’m sorry.” She gathered her stuff, tucking it against her chest. She took a few steps toward the door and almost ran over Billie. “Oh! This must be your… your _daughter_. Right. Of course you don’t need… I was just… going now. Goodnight.” She swept out the door and slammed it with an air of wounded dignity, leaving Billie staring after her.

“Uncle Tony? Who was that?”

“Uh.” Crap. They tried, they tried _very hard_ not to lie to Billie. “Her name is Darcy Lewis.” Maybe Billie wouldn’t ask for more information than that.

“Why’s she mad at me?” Billie was scowling, which didn’t always mean anything. Scowling was, Tony had decided a while ago, her default expression. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

“Of course not. She’s not mad at you, she’s... Um. Maybe a little embarrassed. It’s okay. I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Billie considered that for a moment. “Okay,” she said, finally. “Did you finished your homework, Uncle Tony?” Her voice took on the same tones that Bucky’s sometimes did when he knew Billie had been neglecting her schoolwork in favor of playing with her Light-Up Genie Palace (with all the accessories, because _Mom_ ).

“Not yet,” he admitted, smile tugging at his lips. “Ms. Lewis interrupted me. You need anything before I get back to it, kiddo?”

Billie rocked back and forth a minute, screwing her face up like she wanted to say something and not being sure if she should. She’d gotten in trouble at school a few times for repeating bits of Clint’s more colorful vocabulary, and asking questions at school. (“What’s a Columbian necktie?” came to mind as something Tony wished she hadn’t learned.) She turned around without saying whatever it was, and then stopped at the edge of the hall. “Why’d she think she was gonna have a baby, Uncle Tony? Did something happen to it? The baby, I mean?” Her eyes were wide and liquid, like she was on the verge of breaking into tears about a baby that didn’t exist.

Fuck. Tony took a breath, let it out. “She... was hired to have a baby, but it looks like that’s not going to happen now.” He tried to redirect. “That’s kind of an interesting job to have, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” she said, in that same dismissive tone that she reserved for most adult stuff that wasn’t _actually_ interesting. “You should finish your homework.” She scooped up one of her toys off the coffee table in the living room.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony said, relieved, and went back to the dining table, half-covered with his books and papers. Right. Mechanics Design. He pulled the assignment sheet over and started re-reading it. Right, that’s what he was doing. He picked his pencil up again and began to make notes on the half-done design on his graph paper.

From Billie’s bedroom came an ungodly sort of noise, like someone had thrown an accordian off the roof or something. “ _Uncle TONY_!” Rapid pattering of feet heralded the arrival of Billie, eyes wide with shock.

Tony found himself half-out of his chair without even making the decision to move. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“She gets _paid_ to have babies, Uncle Tony!” Billie grabbed hold of the bottom of his tee, mangling the hem and tugging on it so the collar was stretched. “She gets paid to _have babies_! You… Uncle Tony, _you_ could give her a job! She… she could have _your_ babies!”

Oh, _Jesus_. How many times would they have to put Billie off on this before she gave up? Tony sighed and petted her soft black hair. “Honey, I don’t...” Damn it, she was making the _face_. The one he couldn’t quite say no to. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to Uncle Bucky about it.” Bucky would find the whole thing farcical and hilarious, probably, and that would be the end of it.

Billie hugged him, squeezing him around the middle. “I… Auntie Jan gave me some money in my Christmas card,” she offered, tentatively. “An’... an’ I have some of my bussing money left over. I could help pay for it.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Tony said, pulling her into a tight hug. “That’s not something you have to help pay for.” Damn, she _really_ wanted it. That was going to make the promised talk to Bucky rough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Yiddish  
> ongepotchket -- messed up, a hot mess.  
> Vey is mir! - woe is me! (like oy vey, but worse. It’s yiddish. Things can always be worse.)
> 
> *Note: for the comic-book readers in our audience, yes, we know that Carol Danver’s mother’s name is actually Marie, but given that we’ve got her spending time with Maria Stark, we thought we’d give her a middle name that she’s going by in her social circles, so people didn’t get confused. You’re welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

“Go ahead,” Tony said as they were getting ready for bed that night. “Try to guess what my mom’s done _this_ time.” He sounded exasperated but not outright angry, but not amused either.

Bucky held up a finger and continued to brush his teeth. God only knew what Maria had been up to. In the few years that Bucky’d known her, she’d done such wonderful disasters as signed up for a dating site for “older singles” and actually listed her _net worth_ on her profile, to slightly more prosaic things like “misplaced her carryon bag” on the airplane. Which hadn’t been too bad until Bucky got it back and discovered she had an envelope of ‘petty cash’ in there… when petty to Maria meant almost _five thousand dollars_.

Sometimes, Bucky felt like the main character in one of those more obscure fairy tales; the one where the poor orphan was casually nice to the old woman, who turned out to be a witch or something, and blessed/cursed said orphan with something ridiculous, like gold coins falling out of their mouth every time they talked.

Not that he’d say as much to Tony, who would be more likely to take on the cursed view and wash around for _days_ in his low self-esteem. Mostly Bucky got by by ignoring the _money thing_ as much as possible.

He spit a mouthful of toothpaste in the sink and rinsed. “Um… you don’t sound pissed, so I’m guessin’ she didn’t get engaged or anythin’. Did she buy a private jet, so she could come bother us whenever she wants?”

“Oh dear god, _never_ suggest that where she might be able to hear you,” Tony groaned. “No, she’s decided to throw hints at us in the most extravagant way possible.”

“She mail us tickets to New York again? She knows you’re both in school right now, right? I’m quite sure we told her that.” Bucky sighed, splashed water on his face and finger combed his hair back.

“Nope,” Tony said, popping the ‘p’. He rinsed out his own toothbrush with extreme prejudice. “She’s decided she needs more grandchildren. So she looked up that surrogate agency that Dad had on file for me.”

Bucky peered in the sink, just in case a gold coin had fallen out of his mouth. “ _What_?” He remembered Howard’s last words to Tony, to find a suitable mother for Tony’s child. Right in front of Tony’s fiancé, which was just… crass, really. He’d ignored it, as Tony had seemed pretty embarrassed and uninterested. Which was fine. He had Tony. They had a child, even, although Bucky struggled with guilt sometimes that his sister had to die to give Billie to them. “She did what?”

“Oh, it gets better. She didn’t just send the agency after me, no. She actually _picked out the woman_ and sent _her_ here. The poor thing turned up on our doorstep expecting that I already knew all about it, and who she was -- that _I’d picked her_ \-- and I had to tell her I had no idea.”

“What?” Bucky fished a finger around inside his mouth. “You’re _shitting_ me. When was this? Where’d--” There was no girl inside their house that wasn’t supposed to be there. He was pretty sure of that. He considered going to look under the bed, just to make sure. It was just that kind of information, really. “The hell, even?”

“Right? Oh, and to make matters _so much worse_ , Billie overheard some of the conversation and she thinks it’s the _best idea ever_. Because of course she does.”

“I… uh,” Bucky said. He grabbed the hand towel and wiped off his face. “I need to go sit down.” He staggered out of their ridiculously large bathroom (he couldn’t even blame that one on Tony or his money, since Bucky’s own mother had designed the house, and she’d gone a little overboard on the master bedroom and its features.) and landed on the bed, putting his head down, cupping the back of his neck like he thought he might faint. It was… incredibly _rude_ of Tony’s mom to just… drop this on them.

And at the same time, he couldn’t quite get the images out of his head of Tony with Jan’s kids and the way Maria had watched them with an avid, acquisitive expression. And his own thoughts on the matter. Tony was such a good father. He… would look perfect, be amazing, up to his chin in kids.

The bed dipped beside him, and Tony’s arm curled around his waist. “Hey, baby, you okay?”

Bucky wondered, suddenly, if the surrogate looked like Jan.

“Yeah,” he said, breathless. “How does that work, really? I mean, she just paid someone to show up and say ‘let’s make a baby?’”

“Apparently there was a whole vetting and selection process that I was supposed to participate in, but... in essence, yeah. She knocked on the door and started jabbering about doctor visits and fertile periods and... stuff.”

_Oh_. “Well. Okay.” He paused, trying to settle his thoughts.

Randomly, a smattering of conversation echoed at him from quite a long time ago. He had been hanging out with Sharon, whose ex had promised her the world, right up until she got pregnant and suddenly he wasn’t taking her calls. Michael had been six weeks old, maybe, when she’d agreed to work part-time at Dockside. Bucky had been holding the baby for her while they talked, and she’d looked up at him. “You’ll be a great dad someday,” she had said.

“Right,” Bucky had retorted, resisting the urge to clutch the baby to him a little tighter, as if she were planning on snatching him away. “I’d be a terrible father. Gay, remember?”

“Yeah, because liking guys automatically disqualifies you from loving a child?”

And he hadn’t exactly been blind to the way people looked at them, sometimes. Billie looked more like her biological dad than she did Bucky, but the resemblance was there (as long as Loki wasn’t standing nearby) and people often gave Tony some significant side-eye because of it.

“Well, yeah, I guess. If that’s not something you want,” Bucky started, and then let it trail off.

Tony was quiet for a moment, then, “Is that something... _you_ want? I mean, we never talked about it before Billie, and then we had Billie and... We were kind of ignoring her suggestions, and I know that’s because most of them were batshit crazy, but... it never occurred to me to ask if you _wanted_ another kid.”

“I… never really thought about it,” Bucky said. “Not, you know… well, once.” He made a face; he and Brock had been high as fucking kites and looking at the stars off the widow’s walk and spinning castles in the air, and even then, even before he knew what a shitheel Brock was, Bucky knew that his dreams weren’t things he wanted Brock involved in. But he’d said it anyway: kids, a family, a _big family._ Dad had been just about gone most of the time, mentally, if not physically, and Bucky was in a huge house with no voices.

Brock had laughed at him, and he’d never said a word about it to anyone, ever again. “I did, you know, once,” he said, tentatively. “Want a big family. I made one, I guess. Steve an’ Nat, and Sharon and Wanda and Peter, an… still wasn’t the same, until you came along. So, you know, lemme be clear about that; _you_ are the most important person in the world t’ me. You an’ Billie are my family, an’ if… I don’t ever want you to… fuck, baby, I got no idea what I’m tryin’ to say here.”

“Are we actually considering this?” Tony said. “I mean... I _really_ liked taking care of Henry and Hope, while Jan was here. I could see... I’d be willing to talk about it, if that’s something you want. Because if you want it, and I want it, and hell, _Billie_ wants it... maybe that’s something to think about.”

“You were… you were good with ‘em,” Bucky said, tentatively. He tapped Tony’s forehead lightly. “An’ you know, certified genius an’ all, might be worth considerin’ all the idiots havin’ babies. Need to balance out the gene pool a bit.”

Tony snorted. “Darcy went to Vassar, she told me,” he said. “Plenty smart. Though we could consider adoption instead, if the surrogate thing is too weird. Mom’s... got _ideas_ , you know her. But we don’t have to bow to her _every_ whim.”

“ _Darcy_ , huh?” Bucky shook his head. Gave Tony his best speculative gaze. “She pretty?”

Tony paused to consider it. “Yeah, I guess so. Mom probably thought it would help.”

“Bet you’d father a pretty baby without any help, but I reckon every little bit…” Bucky couldn’t help the smile that twitched at his lips, thinking of Tony’s baby -- son? Daughter? Bucky wasn’t sure he cared, with a mop of dark mahogany curls and whiskey dark eyes. “Maybe… maybe I should meet her? We could, I mean, obviously, she’s gotta be involved in th’ process, we could talk it out?”

Tony took a breath, and then a deeper one. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He leaned into Bucky’s side, snuggling closer. “I’ll get Mom to tell me where she’s putting Darcy up and we’ll call her tomorrow.”

Bucky ran a finger down Tony’s jaw and lifted his chin. “You know you can tell me no, right? You an’ Billie, that’s all I _need_ , baby. We don’t gotta do this, just ‘cause your mom wants it, an’ we don’t gotta do it to spite, or in spite of, or _despite_ , your dad. If… I want it, but only if you want it. Can’t have half a baby, Tony. We gotta both be in, or both out.”

“I admit it took me by surprise,” Tony said. “And part of me wants to dig in my heels just because it’s something Dad wanted, and because Mom arranged it without asking me about it. But that’s dumb. And I love Billie, you know I do -- but I do feel kind of sad that I didn’t get to hold her as a baby, see her first steps... all of that. And you’re such a good father. It seems like it might be wrong to not give another kid a chance at having you for a dad.” He smiled, and leaned in to kiss Bucky gently. “I’m in, baby. At least for talking, seeing how it all works.”

Bucky hummed happily into the kiss. “Love you.” It could still all go wrong. Bucky knew that, he’d been in the world long enough to know that things never went according to plan. But Tony crawled over the bed to get in on his side, snuggled up to Bucky, and Bucky had the oddest urge to check his mouth again.

For gold coins.

***

There was nothing to be nervous about, Tony told himself. Sure, it was an unusual situation, but it was just a business transaction. If they decided they didn’t like the way things were going, they could walk away. They wouldn’t even have to feel too guilty -- Tony had called his mother to take her to task for her meddling, and made her promise to pay Darcy in full no matter what they decided. Maria had agreed so easily that Tony knew she’d already made up her own mind about the results.

Whatever. Maria would have to live with whatever they decided, even if she didn’t like it.

They set the meeting up for mid-morning, when Billie was in school and well before the Dockside staff came in for dinner prep, and since it was January, they weren’t open for lunch. The only ones who might be around other than Tony and Bucky might be if Nat and Steve came in to prep for their ridiculous polar plunge that they did every year, but they usually did that at night, rather than during the day.

Which meant the Dockside dining room was about as private and business-like as they could ask for. So there was no reason to be nervous as they waited for Darcy to arrive.

None at all.

Darcy walked in. She’d changed her look entirely from the disorganized poet-student she’d been projecting the last time Tony had seen her. She was wearing an off-gray business suit dress, the silk shirt under the faintest, palest pink. Her hair was out from under the slumpy knitted cap that she’d worn last time and was curled and styled and pulled back, a few locks escaping to soften her face. She looked utterly professional and put together.

Bucky swallowed hard. “ _That’s_ who your mom wants as the mother of your kid?”

“She looked a lot more relaxed yesterday,” Tony muttered back, and then he was moving, hand outstretched like Darcy was a long-time customer. “Hi! Thanks for agreeing to come back to talk to us. You really caught me by surprise yesterday, and I needed some time to process, and to talk to my husband.”

“Well, someone ought to talk to someone around here,” she said, a little frostily. “I spoke -- _at length_ \-- with your mother yesterday, and again this morning. And I’m afraid we’ve moved into a new phase of negotiations.” She made a face. “May I sit?”

Bucky was already on his feet, holding out a chair for her. “Please do, Miss Lewis,” he said. “I’m James, Tony’s husband. Can I get you a coffee?”

Darcy eyed him for a moment, then sighed, almost wistfully. “Next time, warn a girl,” she muttered under her breath. “Yes, please. Half coffee, half milk. No sugar.”

When Bucky retreated to the kitchen, Darcy turned a fierce eye on Tony. “Your mother and I discussed some terms. And she did assure me that she did not speak with you, prior. So I recognize that what happened yesterday was not your fault. Which does not change the fact that I felt rather brutally humiliated. And therefore, changing your mind or not, you and your husband must convince me that _I want_ this job.”

“That’s fair,” Tony admitted. “I have to say I was a bit worried you’d have left town already.” He slid into the chair across from her. “I’ll apologize again for being so undiplomatic, and also for my mother, because I’m fairly certain she hasn’t.”

Darcy nodded. She pulled out a packet and slid it across the table to him. “My resume and files, since you haven’t seen them. But your mother has compensated me for my time, regardless. If we decide not to proceed, I’ll have a lovely vacation.”

Bucky came back in with coffee, sliding Tony a mug as well -- when he raised it to his nose, he recognized the bean as one of the bags Sam and Wanda bought for him from time to time. Bucky had broken out the good coffee. (Not that anything Dockside served was bad, mind, since Wanda had opinions. Loud ones.)

She studied Tony over the rim of her mug. “What changed your mind?”

“Well, like I said -- it took me by surprise. We hadn’t been thinking about expanding our family at all, and I needed some time to process the thought and realize it was something I wanted. And it was worth some consideration that it’s something that Bucky wants. And Billie, as well -- our daughter. She’s actually, technically, our niece. But she’s been caught up in the idea of a baby in the house for a while.” He huffed into his coffee. “When she figured out what you’d come for, she actually offered to break into her piggybank to help out.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went up and his smile wobbled a little. “Oh, that’s _adorable_ ,” he said. He tipped his coffee cup in Darcy’s direction. “You have to understand, Billie’s very… dragonish with her money. She knows her grandmama will buy her pretty much anythin’ she asks for, an’ a bunch that she don’t. So she just sits on her cash money. I think, last time she counted it up, she’s got about two hundred or so.”

“I don’t think her contribution, financially, will be required,” Darcy said. She gave them both a tentative smile that made her look a lot softer. “I don’t much like the idea of leaving a job undone. I signed up for the donor program on a whim. I did a double-major, political science and physics. Thought donating eggs or wombspace for an infertile couple, or --” she gestured at Tony and Bucky with one hand “--people who couldn’t have their own kids. Would be good. You know? Didn’t realize I was going to get shortlisted with some _very_ demanding requirements. Felt good, to be picked. So, what I’m saying is. If you’ve decided you’d like my services, I’m happy to provide.”

Tony sat back, feeling warm and also terrified. He looked at Bucky, eyebrows raised.

Bucky leaned back in his chair a little, pushing the front legs off the floor. “Yeah,” he said, light. “She had a discussion with your mom and it sounds like she came out ahead.” He directed his attention to Darcy. “You’ll be great.”

Darcy gave him a quick flash of teeth. “All right, then,” she said. “Forgive the intrusive question, but… well, tomorrow’s Wednesday, so, have you two… er… had marital relations since Friday?”

“Uh, yes.” Tony snorted. “Also, seriously, if you’re going to be doing this, I think you’re allowed to say the word ‘fuck’.”

“Right,” she said. “Well, you need to not. I’ll get your appointment on Friday, but you need to… not use up your swimmers for seventy-two hours before your appointment. Which --” she consulted her sheet. “Will be at 11 on Friday morning. So, no nookie after well. Now.”

Tony made a whining noise in the back of his throat, but slumped in his seat and nodded. “Fine. What else do we need to know?”

Bucky muttered, “Thought makin’ a baby was supposed to be fun.”

Darcy took another sip of her coffee. “Well, you, at least, don’t have to go through the screening process. We’ll go in, you have your choice of terrible porn, you wank it into a cup -- no lube, not even _spit_ , I’m told -- and then your part is done, at least until we see if they can mix it up right and if I get pregnant right away. Which I might not, but we won’t know that for a while. If not, we go again next month.”

She dug through her paperwork some more. “We’re going to try the turkey-baster method a few times. There’s some official name for it, but I forget. Basically, they just wait for me to be fertile, and splurt, up it goes. Yuck. If we try that a few times and I don’t catch, they’ll do an egg harvest and mix up the zygote in a test tube, and then try to implant that. As a note, so you’re warned, both of these methods have a greater chance of twins than normal impregnation. The test tube thingie they usually put three to five fertilized eggs down. Most women don’t have multiple births, but it’s still a possibility. I mean, everyone’s heard of the octomom, right?”

Tony made a face. “So we’ll hope the... turkey baster method works, then, huh? I mean, we want a kid, not a baseball team.”

“We’ll deal with that if we end up with that problem,” Darcy said, practically. “I don’t have a history of twin-births in my family. Oh, that reminds me, what’s your blood type?”

Tony blinked. “Damned if I know. Mom didn’t tell you?”

“She wasn’t sure, you could be A positive, or negative. Mr. Stark was one, she’s the other. I’m O neg, and if you’re positive, I have to get an rH injection, to make sure my blood cells don’t think the baby’s a disease or something.” She waved a hand around. “They’ll do a stick when you’re in for the mandatory masturbating.”

Bucky made a strangling sound. “You gonna need a _hand_ with that, babe?”

“After three days of no-touchy, I’ll be surprised if I don’t just shoot off thinking about it,” Tony grumbled. He was exaggerating, of course, but it still wasn’t making him happy.

“All right, then.” Darcy handed Tony a business card. “That’s my cell number. I’ll pick you up on Friday for your appointment, and then, I’ll get something on the books so you two can meet the OBG team? I don’t know how involved you want to be with the actual pregnancy part of things, but I’ll… be here, through the whole thing, if you want to talk to the baby, or whatever. I don’t know.”

Bucky, who had been grumbling, presumably about the same lack of sexy times as Tony, suddenly softened, his eyes getting misty. “Oh,” was all he said, but the tone was heartbreakingly reverent.

Tony took Bucky’s hand and squeezed it. “Yeah,” he told Darcy. “We’ll want to be involved all the way through. That’s our baby, after all.”

“Great!” She sounded like she meant that. “Otherwise, seriously, was going to be bored to death. Okay. I’m going to go now, so I can have my freak out in private. Anxiety, you know how it is. The shots I have to do to be all extra-fertile, they make me a little crazy. See you on Friday. Dads.” With that parting shot, she gathered her stuff, gave a jaunty little wave, and left.

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at the empty space where Darcy had been, then at Tony, and then back again. “We’re going to be parents to a newborn?”

“Looks that way, babe.” Tony grinned at the dumbstruck expression on Bucky’s face, fully knowing that his own didn’t look the same only because it still hadn’t quite hit him yet. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay…” Bucky gave him a loopy smile. “More than okay.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Wednesday was George Odinson’s special day. Bucky had been told this quite seriously by Loki. If it had been Thor who said it, Bucky might have not taken it seriously, and while Loki did occasionally have a very wicked sense of humor, the one thing in the world Loki took seriously was his father. Every week the Odinsons had a special family dinner; even when Loki was up north taking care of business in Atlantic City, he flew home, just for Wednesday dinner. Billie, as the sole grandchild, attended only one of these dinners a month by the custody agreements that Loki -- as her birth father -- and Tony and Bucky had signed.

Sometimes, when she was feeling generous or Tony was making lasagna for dinner (Billie hated ricotta cheese with a passion), she would attend more than once a month. She never minded anymore, since the first few when she was still getting used to her grandfather, who was a big man with a huge voice, and weirdly solemn, and a little more bloodthirsty than someone who ran a chain of hotels ought to be. (Bucky still expected that George would sign Billie up for broadsword lessons or something someday.)

For a change, Loki had sent his brother to pick up Billie instead of coming himself. Thor had been delighted. Of course he had. A trip to Dockside meant the perfect opportunity to make Bucky uncomfortable. Bucky was pretty sure that was the only reason Thor kept trying to kiss him. But it was just awkward -- it always had been, but now it was worse -- because technically, they were all sort of related.

Added to that, Bucky’s temper was a little short. He’d decided to go ahead and finish the quitting smoking process (he’d started it several times, and mostly he was down to less than half a pack a week, so quitting all the way shouldn’t have been so hard, but it was, and Bucky resented it). So Bucky was on the front porch, avoiding Thor and not smoking, when he really would have rather been smoking, and chewing stoically on a toothpick.

And they were waiting for Darcy, who was at an OBG appointment. They’d agreed they would all go together to those, but this was the one where they’d check and see if she was pregnant, and she’d wanted to do that alone. “I can’t face both of you making that… face. At me. If this doesn’t happen right off. So I’ll go, and then I’ll come right here, and let you know. Okay?”

Tony had laughingly accused Bucky of hovering. Bucky suspected that, complaints about the procedure aside, none of it was quite real to Tony yet. Whereas Bucky was anxious and gleeful by turns, Tony’d just plugged on with his life, as if nothing momentous was happening.

Except that as soon as Darcy’s jeep pulled into the parking lot and she did her customary double-beep when she parked, Tony materialized onto the porch like he’d been summoned by magic.

He leaned over the railing and peered down at her as she climbed out of the car. “Does she look happy or sad?” he wondered aloud. “I can’t tell, she’s too calm. Why is she so calm?” He didn’t wait for Bucky to answer, just clattered down the stairs to greet her. “Well?”

Bucky squelched a nasty spurt of jealousy as Darcy lit up like the fourth of July, spread her arms wide and hugged Tony around the neck. “You’re gonna be a daddy!”

It was at that moment, with Darcy in Tony’s embrace, that Billie came tearing down the stairs, shrieking in mock dismay, Thor just behind her, doing his best serial killer impression.

“Uncle Tony! Miss Darcy! Help!” She bolted across the parking lot, almost falling in the gravel and not even noticing, the way kids did, and that never failed to make Bucky’s heart screech to a halt with terror before she straightened out again and ducked behind Darcy’s legs.

Thor thundered along behind her, not more than five large strides behind her, hands outstretched to grab and toss her up on his shoulder, which is what he usually did.

Except Darcy dug in her coat pocket, a fiercely protective look on her face. She pulled out small, black object and pointed it at Thor.

It happened so fast, Bucky didn’t have time to do anything. The taser in her hand exploded in a waft of smoke and multicolored confetti. Two little wires shot out and Thor made a muffled sound before going stiff as a board. He jittered a few times and then fell over.

“Oh my god!” Tony yelled. He grabbed at Darcy’s arm. “Darcy, oh my god, they’re _playing_!”

“What?” Darcy looked startled. “He was freakin’ me out.”

“Oh, my god,” Bucky said. “Loki is going to have a fit.” He vaulted over the rail. “Is he okay? Are you okay?”

Thor was huge; there was no way he and Tony were going to be able to move him anywhere. Darcy squeaked a few times uncomfortably and apologized about a dozen times in two minutes, but said it probably wouldn’t require medical intervention.

Bucky had never been tased and wasn’t sure what to expect, although he’d gotten a vivid description of it once from Scott Lang, who said he’d much rather be tased than squirted with pepper spray, and didn’t it say a lot about Scott that he’d experienced both enough to have fucking preferences! But it didn’t take long for Thor to recover. Long enough that if he had been a vicious psycho killer, Darcy and Billie could have been in her Jeep and well on their way to the sheriff’s station. Maybe five minutes after she’d zotted him, Thor sat up, groaning weakly. “Who is this… person?”

“Thor,” Tony said, carefully standing between Thor and Darcy, “this is Darcy Lewis. She’s--”

“Gonna have Uncle Tony’s baby,” Billie informed him, crispy. “I’m gonna have a baby brother. Am I?” She turned her attention on Darcy, who was shifting behind Tony like she was trying desperately to sink into his shadow.

“Verily?” Thor asked. He rolled over onto his hands and knees, ripped the barbs from the taser out of his shirt, and got to his feet. “You are with Stark’s child?”

“Is he even for real?” Darcy wondered aloud. “I mean, who talks like that?”

“Hang around, you’ll meet all the Odinsons,” Tony muttered, then raised his voice a bit. “That’s the news, as of about five minutes ago, yeah. Don’t spread it too far yet; we haven’t told anyone.” He was grinning dopily, but still half-blocking Darcy from Thor, just in case.

“ _Feisty_ ,” Thor commented. “I approve. She will make a fine vessel to carry the brother of my niece.”

“Uncle Thor,” Billie demanded, holding up her arms. “Up, now.”

“No, no I do not think so, my fine warrior,” Thor said. “Yon weapon has weakened me, and I should not wish to drop you.” He extended a hand to Tony. “Congratulations on your upcoming joy. I shall… well, I feel certain my brother will be delighted as well.”

Bucky scoffed. “You do? Really?”

“Well, Loki is somewhat reserved with his joy, it is true,” Thor said.

Darcy peeked out over Tony’s shoulder. “Sorry. Taser first, ask questions later. It’s safer.”

“We probably should’ve filled you in on the family situation,” Tony said. He clapped Thor on the shoulder, then turned to Bucky. “We’re going to have a baby,” he said.

For just an instant, Bucky wasn’t sure which _we_ Tony was referring to; and then he swallowed that down and let himself be happy. He _was_ happy. He was just also a little jealous. But only a little, and it was worth it, for the way Tony’s eyes were shining and that helpless, happy look on his face.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he repeated, as if saying the words made it real. “Oh, god, _Tony_.” And then he was kissing his husband wildly, swinging him around in a dizzying circle in the middle of the parking lot while their adopted daughter giggled and clapped and cheered. _Family_. They were growing their family. Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s neck; he might have been crying, just a little, and he didn’t really want Thor to see.

***

News spread, the way it did. Tony probably should have expected that. While they’d told Billie it was a secret and she’d made Kendra promise not to tell, the two girls had been discussing it and Sarah Casper had overheard. Sarah said something to her brother, Sam, and then Sam had asked Wanda about it, and all of a sudden Tony was practically hip-deep in congratulations and Nat walking past him and randomly whispering, “ _Natasha Stark_ ,” in his ear at unexpected moments.

Being the Dockside crew, everyone had teamed up on Tony to make him want to cry at some point. Steve had come in with a notebook full of sketches for nursery plans. Wanda had hand-crocheted some baby booties and blankets, all in gender-neutral pale green and yellow and given a tee shirt for Tony that read “Boy? Girl? My child is a dinosaur!” Clint made a solemn promise to _not_ volunteer for babysitting and therefore, possibly not ruin Tony’s child for life with bad vocabulary and letting said child watch _Dog Cops_ until three in the morning. Bobbi, on the other hand, promised at least one overnight baby-watching night every other month so Tony and Bucky might have a chance of having sex, ever again, for the next five years or so.

So when Nat stuck her head into the office -- Tony was double-checking the monthly accounting logs, not that he didn’t trust the new assistant manager, but… okay, well, maybe Tony was being a little paranoid -- he rather expected her to start campaigning for the naming of the as-yet-blob-of-cells again. Instead, what she said was, “We have a problem.”

_Problem_ could mean anything from a particularly bitchy customer, to an inventory shortage, to a group of teens building a fire in the parking lot (that had been an interesting evening). Tony sighed and closed out the accounting software, and leaned back in the chair. “Define _problem_.”

“There is a customer here,” Nat said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “He has been here since we open. Ordered coffee, nothing else. He’s been sitting here _all day_. Asked Wanda what time she got off shift. She’s leaving, as soon as Bobbi comes in. It’s… creepy.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely pretty gross,” Tony agreed. “I’ll send him out, and then I’ll walk Wanda home when the shift changes, just to be sure.” He sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair. This was definitely not his favorite part of the job.

He left the office and slipped out onto the floor. The guy wasn’t hard to spot; he was the only person in the place who was sitting by himself, slouched down at his table, eyes constantly sweeping the room. Tony put on his professional face as he approached. “Afternoon, sir.”

The man in question looked up; he had orangey-red hair and a bit of ginger scruff to go with it and a piercing stare. “Dude,” he said, lifting his coffee cup in a mocking toast.

“Sir, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave. You’re making my waitstaff nervous. Don’t worry about settling your bill.” Tony even managed to say that last without being sarcastic about it. He was proud of that.

The man chuckled, sounding oddly good-humored for someone who was being asked to leave. “That little bitty two-bites of nothin’ girl? Or the redhead who’s pretending that she’s a sweet Georgia peach? Not that I wouldn’t mind shakin’ her tree. She’s running a really fine con-job, though. Where’s she really from? St. Petersburg?” He looked around, eyes searching. “It’s a nice place you got here. Family run business. It’s… cute.”

That was... interesting. Very, very few people actually pegged Natasha’s accent as fake. “Sir, I’m afraid I must insist.”

The man lifted his coffee cup and took another swig. “I’m not leavin’ yet. Haven’t finished my business.”

There were times when Tony _really_ regretted that Nick Fury had taken a job with the FBI. Bucky hated when the cops were around, didn’t trust most of them. For good reason, but it did make their lives unreasonably difficult, sometimes. Like when Tony wanted to punt a customer to the curb and the guy was probably bigger than Steve, which took some doing.

“I’d really rather not involve the police,” Tony said carefully. “But if you insist on causing trouble--”

“I’m not here t’ cause _you_ any trouble,” the man said. “But you know you got more than one con-artist workin’ for you, right? An’ she owes me money. I aim to get what’s owed me.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Tony said. “Wanda’s lived here her whole life and she’s almost fanatical about her debts--”

“Wanda? Who’s Wanda? Nah,” he said, slurping down the last of his coffee. “I’m lookin’ for Barbara Morse. Calls herself Bobbi. Might be goin’ by Bobbi Barton, these days.”

Well. _That_ put a different light on things. It was not only possible but _probable_ that Bobbi owed someone money. Probably even multiple someones. And the guy wasn’t wrong about her lack of honesty, either, though mostly she dealt pretty straight with the Dockside crew, as long as they weren’t foolish enough to play cards with her. Tony sighed. “I’d really rather you didn’t bring trouble in here, for me or _any_ of my employees,” he said. “I’ll be happy to pass on a message to her when she comes in.”

“She’s gonna cut an’ run if she knows I’m looking for her,” the man said. He stood up and dropped a twenty on the table. “But you tell her. You tell her, noticin’ little things, it’s kinda what we do. And I will find her. It’s not about the money. It’s about what she took from me. An’ I’ll take the money. Or I’ll take back what’s mine.” He gave Tony a friendly, jovial grin that was totally at odds with what he was saying. “Tell her that Barney Barton is looking for her. You tell her that.”

Tony had a pretty good poker face, but that strained his affected aplomb right up to the breaking point. _Barton_? Clint had never mentioned any family, but then, there was a lot that Clint didn’t talk about. “I’ll tell her,” he said, and stepped back to give Barton space to leave.

Barton was _huge_ , at least an inch or two taller than Steve and looked like he could bench press Bucky’s truck without straining too hard. He paused, then put another five on the table. “Didn’t mean to scare the girl,” he said. “Tell her so.” And he was out the door.

Tony watched through the wrap-around windows until Barton had circled around toward the parking lot, then sagged against the table with a heavy sigh. He scooped up the mug and the cash, and took them into the kitchen. He dropped the mug into the dishwasher and handed the cash to Wanda, who was loitering behind the door, watching. “He wasn’t looking for you, he was looking for Bobbi,” Tony told her. “Said to tell you sorry.”

Wanda didn’t look reassured. “That guy was _super creepy_ ,” she said. “Like… every time I went to refill his cup, he had something _weird_ to say. Told me I looked like a twin. I mean, I am, but how the hell did he know that?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know. Anyway, he left. I’ll still walk you home if you want, but first I want to call Bobbi.” He pulled the phone from his pocket and waggled it illustratively, then headed for the relative quiet and privacy of the office.

“Bobbi?”

Bobbi answered the phone with a puzzled and breathless, “Everything okay? You need me early? You could have texted me!”

“Yeah, this seemed a bit more urgent,” Tony said. “There was a guy in here looking for you today. He freaked out Wanda and even made Nat nervous. I got him to leave by promising to pass on a message, but you should still be careful.”

“Both amazingly unspecific and spectacularly unhelpful,” Bobbi said, obviously running down an extensive mental checklist of men that she’d cheated or conned or both. And probably ex-boyfriends while she was at it. Bobbi’s past (and for that matter, some of her present) was long, colorful, and checkered, and it was probably best that Tony didn’t know too much about it. Plausible deniability was a thing. “Give me some details, so I know how much trouble this is going to be.”

“Does the name Barney Barton ring a bell?” Tony couldn’t quite resist being just a touch snippy about it. Bobbi had _promised_ not to bring that part of her life to Dockside. “Says you owe him money, and if he doesn’t get it, then he’ll take back what’s his.”

“Fuck.” Bobbi took in a deep, quavering breath. “Fuck. Is.. tell me he’s not still there. _Clint is on his way_.”

“He walked out the door,” Tony said. “But for all I know he’s half a mile down the road. There something we should know, here? Be prepared for?”

“That’s… he’s Clint’s brother. And he’s trouble. _Lots_ of trouble. This is me, Tony, telling you that Barney Trickshot Barton is _trouble_ , so think about that before you blow me off. And… fuck. You cannot tell Clint. You can’t. I’ve been paying Barney to stay away. I missed a few payments last year. Shit. I thought... I told him what happened. Shit. _Shit_. I’m on my way in, maybe I can head this off before…”

“Okay, you do whatever you think best, if you know this guy. I’m pretty sure no one else caught the name, so I’ll just hide in the office when Clint gets here. But I want you to tell me this is settled soon. I’m not lying to Clint for weeks on end.” Tony had never been so grateful for the way he and Bucky had worked their way around to fairly scrupulous honesty early in their relationship. This seemed like a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

“Yeah,” Bobbi said. She laughed, which almost sounded like sobbing. “Like I got a spare ten grand up my ass that Clint’s not going to notice is _missing_. Fuck. Tony, he’s going to be so pissed with me.” Tony heard a car door slam and the engine roar. “Thanks for the heads up.”

The line went dead in Tony’s hand.

“Oh, this is going to be a headache,” he groaned. He eyed the phone for a moment, then flipped to the messaging screen and shot a text off to Bucky. _Duck adn cvr, gonna be Drama soon._

New text from Bucky:

_No. rfuse delivery. No drma rderd._  


	5. Chapter 5

When the drama did hit -- and Bucky wondered why he’d had any hope that they’d be able to dodge it -- it struck with the force of a tactical nuke.

He’d been suffering for _years_ under the delusion that at some point he would grow up and get his shit together and figure stuff out. His parents had always seemed so well adjusted and normal and had a plan, Bucky just assumed that at some point, the childish confusion and lack of clarity would dissolve and he’d have some sort of grip on his life. He was most of the way through the thirtieth year of his life and still, he felt exactly the same as he had when he was twenty: absolutely befuddled by the shit that life threw at him.

Some things were different, at least. He had a partner he could count on, and if Tony didn’t have his fucking back, Bucky wasn’t sure how he’d survive.

Case in point: he’d been gone for a day-long seminar session for operating a food truck -- he wasn’t actually going to be driving it or anything, but they were expanding the business, and Bucky figured knowing what the whole deal was could be nothing but helpful -- and he got home just in time to find his daughter sobbing herself sick on the sofa, getting her extremely fat, cream-colored cat soaking wet with her tears. Muffin didn’t seem to mind, really, just kept grooming her long fur as Billie hugged her.

“Honey?” Bucky asked. He hung up his coat and scowled at the lack of adult presence in his living room. Usually when Billie had a problem -- anything from her homework frustrating her to stubbing her toe -- she found an adult and demanded that they fix it. Right now. Sobbing on her own was utterly, utterly unlike her. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up, bleary-eyed, and abandoned Muffin to fling herself into Bucky’s arms and sob even harder. “Uncle Bucky! Clint’s gonna take Lucky away _forever_!”

“What?” Bucky nearly tripped over a very offended cat in order to keep Billie from knocking him down. “No, no, he’s not.” True, the Bartons did take the dog with them sometimes, for vacations and chasing Bobbi’s other career where a dog would be welcome, but it wasn’t that often. Fancy casino hotels weren’t partial to dogs in their rooms. They’d taken him last year for a two week Canadian tour and Billie had acted like it was the end of the world, but… “They always come home, sweetie.”

“No!” she cried, drawing it out for several syllables. “Clint’s leavin’ Miss Bobbi here an’ takin’ Lucky, an’ I’m never gonna see him again!”

Bucky squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Brace for incoming drama,” he muttered. Tony had warned him, but… Clint and Bobbi had been solid for several years now. Relationship-wise, leastways. Clint had never been exactly… reliable. If Bucky made allowances for his tendency to sleep late, forget important shit, act on every and any impulse he had, and generally act like a mobile loaf of bread, Clint was a pretty good guy.

He flicked a glance at the clock. It was less than half an hour until Billie’s bedtime. “I’ll figure out what’s going on, okay, promise,” he told her. “You want me to read to you, before bed? Help you settle out?” He pulled a tissue out of the box on the coffee table and used it to wipe off Billie’s face. Damn, he hated seeing her look sad. She’d gone through a period of that after her mom died -- understandable -- and then again just after when Becca’s birthday would have been, but most of the time, she was more angry than sad. And recently, she’d been getting a lot better. Adjusting. Smiling more. Enjoying time with her friends and family. Bucky squashed an utterly irrational desire to hit Clint until Billie stopped crying.

She sniffled and -- when prompted -- took the tissue to blow her nose with. “Will you read the new Treehouse book for me?”

“Sure thing.” Which was a trick question, and he found that out after he’d walked her through the nighttime routine of brushing her teeth and washing her face and putting her hair in a braid to sleep, like it was something new and different and they hadn't done it every night for the last several months. Seriously, if Tony or Bucky didn’t ride her about it, Bucky was positive the child would never voluntarily brush her teeth. He looked around for the book she’d requested. Which… she didn’t have yet.

So Bucky downloaded it on his tablet. They could get a physical copy later so Billie could practice her own reading. She was supposed to read twenty minutes a day as part of her schoolwork, and neither the back of the cereal box, nor Dockside’s menu, which she practically had memorized, counted. He might have cheated a bit, though, with the reading, because she was tentatively smiling, and then giggling over the adventures of the kids in the book, and that was better than crying by a huge order of magnitude.

He dropped Muffin on the bed -- seriously, the cat was _spoilt_ , because she refused to jump anywhere if there was a human in range to lift her, content with yowling plaintively until someone picked her up -- and checked the guinea pigs before turning off Billie’s light and sliding the door most of the way closed.

Deep breath. Punching Clint in the face for upsetting Bucky’s kid wasn’t going to be constructive. Scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Downstairs. Tony wouldn’t be back from his night class for at least another hour, maybe longer if he decided to hit study group.

Nat. She’d know what was going on, and Bucky wouldn’t feel the ridiculous urge to yell at her about it. Yelling at Nat was taking his life into his own hands, and he wasn’t quite prepared for that, just yet.

He took a quick scan of the floor before retreating to his office. “When Nat gets a minute,” he said to Steve on his way by, “let her know I need her for a bit?” He messed up Steve’s hair and got himself whacked with a spatula for stealing a piece of cheese out of the stack by the grill.

Nat poked her nose into Bucky’s office a few minutes later. “Steven said you wish to see me?”

Bucky rubbed his eyes; he’d been up since fuck o’clock in the morning to drive up for the seminar. “What in the _seven hells_ is going on? Billie was upstairs turning our cat into a Kleenex, crying her eyes out because Clint’s… moving away?”

Nat came all the way into the office and shut the door behind her, leaning against it with an extremely put-upon sigh. “Always, with the drama,” she complained. “Clint and Bobbi, they are having a fight.” She considered that, then shrugged. “They do not fight as efficiently as me and Steve, or you and Tony. This fight... This fight, it will not be easy to fix.” She dropped into the chair on the far side of the desk and gave Bucky an appropriately wide-eyed look. “Ice cream may not be enough.”

Ice cream hadn’t been the solution for Tony and Bucky’s problems, either. Mostly the solution had been listening to what the other person was actually saying, and not to whatever bullshit was going on inside their heads. They’d gotten it right, after a few big fuck ups. Although sometimes Bucky was still prone to being excessively critical and Tony’s self esteem would get flattened by Bucky’s thoughtlessness. Or Tony would make decisions, based on what he thought Bucky would do. And even when those were correct, just having someone else make up his mind for him tended to get Bucky to dig his heels in just to be contrary.

He rolled his tongue around in his mouth for a moment, then, “Cheating, lying, or money?” Those were the biggest issues; everything else tended to be resolvable, if people loved each other more than they wanted to be _right_.

Nat thought about that for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “Mostly the lying, I think. But the other two are in the mix.”

Bucky didn’t want to know, he really _did not_. Every time he found out about other people’s problems, he had this nagging urge to fix them. But Clint was family, had been for most of a decade now. And asking Clint about it was going to get him the emotional dump, but not the facts. “Tell me what happened,” he suggested. “And then we’ll see what can be done.”

“You knew Clint’s brother had come to town?” Nat asked. “To find _Bobbi_ , not Clint. But then he found Clint. Clint has not seen his brother for many years; they are reunited, happy family.” She waved a hand indistinctly. “And then Barney -- oops! He mistakes, says the thing that should remain secret: that he has stayed away because Bobbi paid him to do so. Clint, he is not happy to learn this.”

“You’re fucking kidding me-- no, wait, nevermind. This is Bobbi we’re talking about. What the hell, though?” Was that where all the money had gone? That seemed excessive, and to be sure, neither Bobbi nor Clint had anything remotely resembling restraint, especially as far as having fun was concerned. He knew Bobbi’d had a run of bad luck, about six, eight months back, that she’d nearly bankrupted them at the tables. She’d asked him for an advance on some paychecks, but had scrupulously paid him back later. “Shit. Yeah, okay, that might… why would she do that, though?” Until a few days ago, the only thing he’d ever heard about Clint’s brother was that they’d run off to the circus together, and that the circus had been fun, until… something happened. Clint wouldn’t talk about the something, except his eyes got all shuttered and his mouth went flat, and Bucky didn’t push.

“That, I cannot say. Though he is an... unsettling person, even when he is on his best behavior. There is more to the fight, though. Barney comes to collect, because Bobbi has missed payments, otherwise this arrangement would not come to light, yes? It turns out Bobbi missed payments because she did not anticipate the time it would take to recover from a miscarriage.” Nat tipped her head, watching Bucky closely. “Which she did not tell Clint about.”

“Brace for impact,” Bucky said again. “ _Fuck_. Yeah. Okay. Has he actually left, yet? Or is he sulking on a rooftop somewhere?”

“He takes his bow,” Nat said. “He and his brother were--”

“Wilcox, right,” Bucky said. Wilcox was an indoor/outdoor shooting range, up in Virginia Beach, where Clint sometimes went to fill a target full of arrows. The man’s aim was uncanny, a leftover from his days as a carnie performer. Bucky’d gone with him a few times, to keep his trigger finger in practice, and Clint’s weapon of choice should have fallen behind a gun-and-scope, but Bucky couldn’t match him more than one in five tries. “Right. Can… you an’ Steve stay late, keep an eye on Billie until Tony gets home? I’m gonna go have a talk with Clint.”

Nat nodded solemnly. “We would be happy to do this,” she said. “Try not to hurt him too much.”

“I ain’t gonna shoot _Clint_ ,” Bucky said, pushing his hands through his hair. He didn’t make any promises about the older Barton brother. He was pretty damn sure that it was no accident that Clint had spotted Barney at one of Clint’s regular hangouts. And he probably wasn’t going to kill Bobbi either, although he might. “Have a go at it from the Bobbi direction. She might be more willin’ to talk to you than me. Ice cream and vodka, whatever works. See if we can get ‘em to talk it out before anyone goes doin’ anything permanent-like.”

He grabbed the key to his gunsafe out of his desk. He was going to have to clear his way to the back of the garage again; Billie’s bike and skateboard and soccer supplies took up an astonishing amount of space. He kissed Nat’s cheek on the way out, not being able to adequately express his gratitude; Nat hadn’t taught Tony and him how to fight, but she’d made it easier for them to make up, later. Maybe he could pay it forward.

***

There were times when Bucky reconsidered his career options; he was owner/operator of what was -- now, after Bucky had finally gotten his shit together and had Tony to keep him on track -- the most successful restaurant on the Currituck Sound. He wasn’t quite edging out some of the places in Virginia Beach, but, like real estate, that was all location, location, location.

But practicing shooting with the Barton brothers, Bucky considered that maybe what he wanted to do with his life was rob banks.

The brothers were terrifying marksmen.

He did find out, through Clint giving his older brother a hard time, how the fuck Barney had known so much about the staff at Dockside. It wasn’t that Clint was dishing on them, either, but, like Tony, Barney Barton had an eidetic memory. He read a thing once and he never forgot it. And what had he done on entering Dockside? What so many customers did. He’d scanned the brag wall; reading about Nat’s college career in an old framed bit of newspaper, seen Wanda and her brother when they’d won a Garden of the Month award. Picked up bits of trivia and information and then used it like he was a goddamn spook.

And he’d done his homework. Not finding out much about Tony from the brag wall -- Tony was rather camera-shy and made enough of a fuss about the few things that were on the wall, that Bucky hadn’t pushed the issue, especially when he got a look at the shit Howard had put Tony through when Tony was barely in grade school -- Barney had looked Tony up. Which was both oddly fascinating and fucking creepy as shit.

On top of Barney’s frightening accuracy on the range, Bucky started wondering if the guy was a part-time _assassin_ or something.

He’d gone to the range with the intention of trying to force-talk some sense into the guy; Clint had been practically a kid when Nat had dragged him into Dockside, homeless, with a sick dog and barely any income. Sensible wasn’t a word that usually applied to Clint. But he also knew how reluctant Clint was to admit anything going wrong in his life, and was resigned to shooting a few rounds with him and his brother, before he could get a word in edgewise.

After he’d mostly gotten over -- or at least used to -- the man’s creepiness and accuracy, Bucky came to the conclusion that Barney Barton was the worst thing for Clint. Ever.

Sometime during the first two rounds -- getting the measure of Bucky -- Barney had started trash talking. He bitched about women (and Bobbi in particular) and cops and made a few subtle jabs at undocumented immigrants. He hadn’t quite gotten around to making any homophobic commentary, but Bucky’d seen the man giving him the side-eye, and Bucky wondered if it was politeness or the fact that Bucky had his rifle and two pistols with him that kept Barney’s tongue inside his stupid head on _that_ issue.

Which wasn’t the worst part; the worst part was that Barney was goading Clint into parroting him, like some sort of bad recording.

It was remarkable how much Clint looked like his _goddamn dog_ when a particularly nasty bit of nonsense came out of Clint’s mouth and his brother patted him on the shoulder like he done good.

There were people like that; Bucky had good reason to know. He’d had a whole pack of them, back during high school and immediately after. The kind of friends who encouraged stupidity, rewarded it with sex or booze or drugs. Acceptance for a gay kid who hadn’t been accepted much of anywhere else. Back in those days, Bucky would have done -- _had_ done -- a shitton of stupid, just to get someone to pretend to care. It had taken a lot longer than Bucky was comfortable remembering for Bucky to get his head out of his ass and realize that those friends were not good for him.

“So, this was nice an’ all,” Barney said, when the proprietor finally booted them off the lanes for the night and Clint suggested that they hit one of the bars that was really a lot closer to the range than alcohol should be. Bucky locked his guns in his truck’s steel toolkit. “But what do you want, Barnes?”

“What?” Bucky gave his best disingenuous stare. “Clint’s been livin’ across the walkway from me on and off for the last seven or eight years. I ain’t allowed to say g’bye to him, now that he’s leaving more permanent like? He’s just as much my family as yours.”

If he’d expected Clint to deny planning to leave, Bucky was sadly mistaken.

“You got all the family you need now, Bucky,” Clint said instead. His eyes flicked over to his brother with something like adoration and it made Bucky feel sick to his stomach. “Hardly have time to miss me.”

“That’s _bullshit_ ,” Bucky said. He wanted to grab Clint’s shoulders and shake some sense into him. “My daughter was in _tears_ tonight, because you’re leaving with the intention of never coming back.” True, a lot of that was also the dog, but the two of them had been a matched set from the beginning. Lucky and Clint. And Bucky couldn’t say that he didn’t feel the same way. He loved Clint, much as the guy annoyed the hell out of him sometimes.

That had Clint blinking and mouth open like he was getting ready to come to his senses, when Barney interrupted the moment. “Least you got a daughter, Barnes,” he said. “Not like my brother, what’s got a lyin’ piece of trash woman that didn’t even tell him that she lost his baby.”

That did it, as far as Bucky was concerned. Barney Barton was trash, and Bucky needed to keep Clint from doing anything stupid. But first he had to get Clint to let his guard down a bit, to let Bucky in past the hurt and anger. Which probably meant waiting until Barney was out of earshot.

Clint ordered another round of drinks for the table and some cheese fries. Bucky settled into the cheap wood and fake-leather booth, knocked back his drink, and waited it out. Sooner or later, Barney would have to go take a piss or something and Bucky could try to talk sense into Clint. But it might be a long evening.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Tony glanced at the clock: 2:30. In the goddamn morning.

He’d been up later -- Dockside didn’t stop seating until 10 in the summer, and tourists were the _worst_ for long, chatty dinners. But Bucky had texted him around eight to say he was going to meet up with Clint at the range to try to talk Clint into sticking around, and Tony knew for a fact that the shooting range closed at ten, because Clint had complained about it on numerous occasions.

So obviously _something_ had happened, but Tony had no idea what.

Tony should just go to bed. Bucky could take care of himself, and if Tony didn’t get some sleep, dealing with Billie in the morning was going to be a nightmare.

He didn’t get up from his spot on the couch, though, where he was nominally watching TV and actually watching the bit of the road and parking lot that he could see from the living room window.

His phone buzzed, petulantly, like a bee that was tired of butting its head against the window. Or maybe Tony was just projecting.

New text from Bucky:  
 _Brton is asshole. Fll n2 bad hbits. hAbits. Not hobbits. Stupid phone. Need lift?_

Tony sighed. If Bucky needed a lift, it meant they’d gone drinking. Which was pretty logical, given the time. But he could’ve said something earlier. _Whre r u?_

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again; a little circle for downloading an image, and Tony was left squinting at a somewhat out-of-focus sign. _11th Street Taphouse_ , he finally managed to puzzle out.

New text from Bucky:  
 _Truck’s n the back. Ubr no drivrs. Srry bb//. ::heart eyes emoji:: luv u_

They didn’t go out drinking much -- there were better things to do with their rare child-free evenings -- but Tony vaguely knew where the bar was. He looked in on Billie, who was sleeping soundly, left a note for her in case she woke up and came looking for them, and pulled on a jacket against the early spring chill.

He tried to decide, as he drove, whether he should be more angry or worried. He still hadn’t decided when he pulled into the Taphouse’s parking lot next to Bucky’s truck.

Bucky detached himself from a shadow near the entrance. His jacket and a long sleeve shirt were tied on around his waist and the thin tank he wore underneath was damp with sweat around the throat. He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and squinted around before nearly walking right into a light pole on his way to Tony’s car. Bucky shoved off the pole, appeared to be having a discussion with it, before getting his bearings and moving again, body swaying dangerously.

He staggered up to the passenger side, closed one eye for a minute while his fingers dragged along the door, before locating the door handle. “Hey, baby,” he managed as he fell into the front seat. “Jesus, stop the world, I wanna _get off_.”

“Holy shit, how drunk did you get?” Tony waited impatiently for Bucky to do his seatbelt -- he hated leaving Billie by herself, even for a half hour -- and threw the car into gear the instant it clicked into place.

Bucky put one hand over his face. “N’ sure? Been a while, since… Stevie’ll ‘member it more. Used t’ pick my stupid ass up on the reg. Ain’t… tolerance ain’t for shit. ‘N Barney Barton is a fucking asshole.” He groped around in the pocket of his jacket and handed Tony a crumpled piece of paper -- the evening’s tab. Reading while driving wasn’t the best idea, so Tony waited until they were at a red light before eyeing the bottom line. Even with three of them drinking, and what was a heroic number of orders of cheese fries, Tony winced at the total.

“God, I hope most of this is them, or you’re going to end up spending the rest of the night in the bathroom, worshipping at the porcelain altar,” Tony said. “And Barney being an asshole is _not_ news. I guess you didn’t have any luck with Clint, since they’re both gone.”

Bucky waved a hand around absently, sending an alcohol-soaked breeze in Tony’s direction. “S’been a while. Wasn’ gonna let ‘im win. He blinked first.” Then he scowled. “Still left. Clint’s face-... pffft. Face down in th’ gutter, ‘n Barney drives off with ‘im. Fuck.”

“Well, hell,” Tony sighed. “Billie’s going to be crushed.” He glanced sideways at Bucky. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Las’ time I got blitz.. Bli… fuuuuuck. _Drunk_. Last time. Your birf-day. ‘Member?” Bucky’s hand came down on Tony’s thigh, warm and wandering. “No, wai… Jan’s. That… yeah, okay. Still. I be okay, baby. Jus’ fine.” Yeah, that hand was not slowing down at all, and it was probably not a good idea to get a hand job while driving, even if Tony wanted to, and he wasn’t really sure he did.

He caught Bucky’s hand, keeping his eyes on the road. “Nope,” he said firmly. Bucky didn’t drink often, at least not more than a beer or two, but a tipsy Bucky was a determinedly affectionate Bucky. “Not right now.”

Bucky let Tony push his hand back down until his palm was resting on Tony’s knee, giving Tony his full on pout, biting at his lower lip, eyes wide and luminous under the streetlights. He squeezed Tony’s knee, then circled his fingertip on the side of Tony’s leg. “Uh-huh,” he said. “You c’n drive an’ I’ll do all th’ work.”

“No,” Tony said again. “I can drive and you can just wait.”

Bucky heaved a great sigh and then pulled his hand back, sitting on his fingers as if to keep them from wandering off of their own accord. He tipped his head back to study to roof of the car. “Wh’zit, you think, tha’ after two’r three drinks, more seems like a good plan?” He let his eyes slip shut. “Goan hate m’self tomorrow. ‘Z’it tomorrow yet?”

“It was tomorrow before you even texted me to come get you,” Tony affirmed. “You’re going to be both hungover _and_ working the grill, lucky you. At least we don’t have a lunch shift.”

“I do _not_ like Barney Barton,” Bucky declared, as if this was news to anyone. “He’san asshole. Racist… mysion… myson.. Fuck, what’s th’ word? Hates women. Mysog.. Whatever. That. Too.” He was giving Tony _that look_ again, and Tony was pretty sure that even sitting on his hands wasn’t going to keep Bucky from trying to molest him again. But at least they were almost back to Dockside.

“Misogynist,” Tony supplied. “Sounds about right.” Bucky’s left hand slipped out from under his thigh and started sliding across the space between them, as if Tony might not notice it if it stayed low. “Stop that. We’re almost home.”

“Can’t,” Bucky said, tone just a little too giggly to be serious. “You’re too pretty. Wanna put m’hands on you _all th’ time_. You’re jus’ that hard t’ resist.” He waggled his eyebrow suggestively, then got distracted by the view; the moon was glittering down over the ocean, sending flashes of light as the waves rolled. Which allowed Tony to get the rest of the way down the road and pull into prime parking -- usually he parked with the rest of the staff on the far side of the Dumpster, but Tony didn’t really want to half-carry his husband that far.

“Come on, lush,” he said, climbing out of the car. He went around the car and opened the passenger door in case Bucky needed help getting back to standing. Bucky tried to get out, and failed. “I recommend unfastening the seatbelt first,” Tony said, suppressing a smile.

“Sloppy,” Bucky said. He wobbled a bit once he got to his feet, then stabilized with one hand on the car’s hood. “S’what Ma used to call it.” He leaned in, put his free hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You… _you_ are unreasonably adorable. Z’not fair.”

“Life rarely is,” Tony said. He slid an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Come on, let’s get you up the stairs.”

Bucky let Tony get him across the parking lot before his hand wandered south again, fingers sliding into Tony’s back pocket. “Mmmm,” he murmured, fingers wriggling in the confined space. “‘Dorable. An’ do-able.”

Tony snorted. “Glad you think so. Maybe when I’m a little more certain you’re not going to pass out halfway through.”

There went that lip again, Bucky’s teeth denting the pink skin. “‘F I make it in th’ house without help,” he bargained, “I get one kiss?”

That. That was a slippery, slippery slope, and Tony knew it. He knew it, and he still couldn’t quite resist it, not when Bucky was biting his lip like that. “Sure,” he said. “Just one,” he added, knowing already it was utterly futile.

Bucky shook off Tony’s arm at the base of the stairs and, using the rail, practically vaulted himself up, skipping a few steps. There was one heart-stopping second where it looked like he was going to pinwheel over backward, but he recovered and did a little victory dance, along with a fist pump, before waiting, rather smugly, for Tony to make it up.

Tony laughed as he joined his husband at the top of the stairs and found the key to the front door. “Well done,” he said. “Any chance I can get you to have some water before you claim your prize?”

Bucky eyed him suspiciously, but shrugged. As Tony led them into the kitchen, he caught Bucky surreptitiously checking his breath. He drank half the glass of water Tony poured for him, then backed Tony up against the counter. Rather than diving in for the promised kiss, he held up one finger, and then pointed to his lips, waiting for Tony to close the distance.

Tony laughed again and leaned in to brush his lips briefly across Bucky’s. “One?” he teased.

Bucky pulled back; his tongue flicked out as if to taste the barest trace that Tony might have left on his skin. “All right,” Bucky said, slow, enunciating carefully. “Guess we’re roundin’ up tonight.” He turned to one side, using an arm to gesture Tony ahead of him.

That wasn’t what Tony had expected to happen. But if he gave Bucky a proper kiss _now_ , they’d end up making out in the kitchen for who knew how long, and some mornings, Billie was an early riser. So Tony slid past, catching Bucky’s hand in his. “Come to bed, honey.”

Bucky followed him, and they got all the way to the bedroom -- Bucky leaving the door open a crack behind them, or they’d end up dealing with Muffin’s case of ‘lemme in, lemme outs’ until neither of them got any sleep at all -- before Bucky tugged Tony to a halt. “Sorry,” he said. “Jus’... thinkin’ too much about endin’s tonight. Never… never thought Clint would actually _go_.”

Tony curled his arms around Bucky. “He’s gone with Bobbi before, lots of times,” he pointed out. “He’ll be back this time, too.” He had no such sense of certainty, but maybe the hope would get them all through the worst of the pain.

“Come t’bed, baby,” Bucky urged, stripping out of his clothes carelessly, leaving them in piles on the floor. Bucky climbed into their bed and peeled the sheets back for Tony, leaving an arm invitingly open for Tony to snuggle into.

Tony stripped down and crawled into the bed, pressing close against Bucky, tucking his face into the hollow of Bucky’s shoulder. “Love you, honey.”

Bucky kissed his hair, one arm draping over Tony’s hip. “Yeah, love you, too.”

***

Bucky already wasn’t feeling too well when Tony drove them back out to the Taphouse to get his truck. It’d been a while since the last time he’d gotten drunk enough to stagger around with a hangover. Tony hadn’t said anything, but Bucky was feeling heavy enough to imagine a bunch of disapproving things that he might have _wanted_ to say.

Which was nothing, nothing at all, compared to the way Bucky’s stomach dropped into his boots as he started to step up into the cab.

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” Bucky swore.

The steel toolbox that Bucky kept odds and ends in (including at least a dozen empty soda bottles that he kept forgetting to throw out) was open. The lock had been torn off, probably with a crowbar, and the left hinge was half-off.

Bucky stepped in the wheel well and vaulted over the side into the truck’s bed.

He was not shocked, but there was a deep squeeze around his heart and lungs when he threw the lid open.

His guns were gone.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” His breathing sped up and he had to remind himself that he was, after all, legally allowed to own a gun, but… this was something he was going to have to report. God, he hated cops. He took a few deep breaths, then waited until Tony looked up from the phone, and beckoned.

Tony’s expression went from neutral to worried in the instant he saw Bucky’s face. “What happened?”

_Reasonable precautions_ , Bucky reminded himself. “You know that thing I never let you do?” He gestured to the smashed lock box. “You get to call the cops.” He gave Tony a thin, tight-lipped smile. “Someone took m’ gun bag.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, and he fumbled at his phone. “Shit,” he said succinctly. “Do we have any idea... God, it could’ve been anyone.”

Bucky scowled. “Two handguns and a long-range rifle and god knows how much ammo. I… fuck. My hand t’ God, I am never drinking again.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. They’d come straight from the range; anyone could have seen them. No one but an idiot would try to rob his truck at the range. There were cameras everywhere there, and anyone trying something stupid would find themselves dealing with highly trained and heavily armed range personnel. But it wouldn’t have taken much, just a curious eye, to watch them drive from the range to the bar. Bucky didn’t even know, he hadn’t thought to check his truck before he’d staggered over to Tony’s car. Even if the bar had outside cameras, he couldn’t tell them when to look.

“Hi, I need to report a theft,” Tony said into the phone. “Someone stole my husband’s firearms out of his truck. Yes, they were locked up, but it’s all smashed to hell now. But-- Yes, I’ll hold.” He sighed and leaned against the car. “They’re going to make us wait here for them, I bet. What time did you get here last night?”

“Dale gave us th’ boot ‘round ten-thirty,” Bucky said. “Think he was gettin’ a hoot out of watchin’ Clint and Barney split each other’s arrows like they were freakin’ Robin Hood or somethin’.”

Tony turned back to the phone to relay all the information he could, prompting Bucky for specifics. In the end, they had to wait about half an hour for an officer to come down and take an official statement before they could leave, which took longer than it really ought to have. They were barely in time to pick Billie up from school as it was. At least the cop had agreed to let Bucky fax them the information from his safe on the guns’ registrations and serial numbers in case they turned up in a pawnshop... or worse, a robbery.

Bucky prodded the ancient fax machine into working, then dropped into his desk, scrubbing his hair away from his face. He tapped the computer on and rather guiltily loaded up the local paper’s website, knowing that he’d be scouring the local crime reports for the next few weeks. _Fuck_. Not knowing what happened to those guns was going to haunt him. He tapped up a couple of searches and set up alerts to his emails.

No time to brood about it; he was on the grill. He barely managed to give Tony a kiss before he was off for classes again.

Halfway through the dinner rush, he’d ended up in a heated debate with his new assistant manager about an ordering process she wanted to change, and Bucky had to constantly remind himself that they’d hired her because she had experience, and just because his Ma had done things one way didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to do them.

But by the time Dockside closed for the night, Bucky was already starting to regret the promise not to drink anymore.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Billie had nagged, pushed, whined, and outright bullied until Tony had agreed to volunteer as one of the consulting adults for her school’s Robotics Club. They met every other week on Wednesdays after school, and since the students were mostly in the eight-to-ten age bracket, spent most of their time trying to get everyone to sit down and be quiet long enough to work on simple kits.

Still despondent about Lucky (and Clint) leaving, Billie tried to talk Tony into letting her skip the club’s exhibition show, but he put his foot down -- if he had to go, so did she.

Once she was there, of course, she cheered up enormously. The breadth of the kids’ imaginations fascinated Tony, from Danny’s tiny angry robot (so Danny said) that would punch through a paper target, to Shuri’s ‘bot that could answer the phone and even send a few pre-programmed text messages. Billie’s robot was essentially a pet (because she didn’t have enough animals already, Tony supposed) that would chase a laser pointer if you moved it slow enough. He’d had to bite his tongue a _lot_ not to just tell all the kids how to do their projects, but he was enormously proud of all of them.

He _might_ have scheduled the exhibition specifically so that Riri could come and see it while she was home on spring break. She had dutifully shown up as soon as they’d opened the doors, hugged Tony tightly, and cooed over all the little robots. She was half a dozen years younger than Tony, though, and she had her own agenda for the break, so she only stuck around for half an hour or so before leaving Tony to head off arguments and impromptu battlebot competitions, and to endlessly explain to patient parents and relatives about the club’s goals.

Prior to Clint’s abrupt departure, Billie had enthused about the show to all of the Dockside crew, so most of them came as well, if only so as not to disappoint her. Nat and Steve dropped in quickly before going to start their shifts. Wanda and Sam, who had the night off, came over on their way to dinner. Bucky had promised to swing by for a few minutes after the dinner rush, and Tony knew Bucky would rather leave Dockside in the weeds than make Billie sad, so he’d be here sooner or later. The very last person Tony expected to see coming through the door, however, was Darcy.

Darcy, who’d gone back to looking like someone who attended more poetry slams than OBG appointments, and who’d been reporting her pregnancy symptoms as they appeared -- including a long, somewhat embarrassing, _detailed_ conversation about how her boobs were tender and swelling that ended when Nat finally took the phone away and recommended a brassiere shop in Virginia Beach -- dodged out of the way of kids and parents alike until she got over to look at Billie’s project.

“I am so bored,” Darcy complained upon arrival. “I’ve binged everything on Netflix worth watching. Show me around.”

Billie, who never missed an opportunity to show off, grabbed Darcy’s hand and dragged her around the room, introducing her teacher, the other parent-sponsor, and the principal of the school before getting to the various ‘bots. They were just poking Harley’s bot, complete with a nerf-style shoulder-mounted rocket, when Tony came back into their orbit.

“Who’s this?” Harley demanded.

“This is Darcy Lewis,” Billie reported, puffing her chest up.

“Why’s she here?” Harley asked. He was standing guard over his robot like he was worried about engineering espionage or something.

“She’s Uncle Tony’s--”

“I’m his baby momma,” Darcy said. She gave Harley a smile and dropped into a squat, asking some questions about his robot.

Tony put his hand over his face and hoped -- maybe even prayed -- that none of the other adults had been close enough to overhear that. The rumor mill was already going crazy.

Yawning heroically, Darcy came over to Tony after finishing the rounds and rather absently leaned up against his chest, closing her eyes. “Perfect,” she muttered into his shirt. “Don’t move. I’m exhausted suddenly. This whole growing a new person gig takes a stupid amount of energy.”

Well, so much for not feeding the rumor mill. But Darcy was actually kind of fun to talk to, and Tony liked her, so maybe it was a rumor he could live with. He wrapped his arms around her and scratched her back, like he did with Nat sometimes. “I guess so,” he said. “It’s only like 7:30. Even my mom goes to bed later than this.”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Darcy protested, sounding for all the world like a sleepy toddler arguing with nap time. “I want tacos and someone to carry me around so I don’t have to walk.” She perked up a little at the idea of tacos, apparently. “I think it’s the lack of caffeine. I’m not supposed to have any, and it’s _murder_.”

“I’m not carrying you around,” Tony said, amused. “But I might be persuaded to stop for tacos when we’re done here.” He wouldn’t want to have to give up caffeine, himself. “Your sacrifice for the Blob is duly noted.”

Darcy made a scoffing sound. “It’s barely a blob. I’m the blob,” she said. “Also, yes, tacos sound great. Where’s the little girl’s room around here, and I realize it’s actually a real little girl’s room, which is going to be a little awkward, but whatever.”

Tony gave her directions, and she managed to slip out of the gym just as Bucky came in the other door -- which probably wasn’t her fault, but Tony didn’t fail to notice at least two other parents giving him some side-eye.

Bucky spotted him across the room, and wandered over, one eye squinched up a little and a finger in his ear. “You know, we hosted th’ Sandbridge’s gardening society dinner t’night, and I’m hard pressed t’ say who’s louder, a gym full of third and fourth graders, or about forty women between th’ ages of thirty five and eighty.”

Tony greeted Bucky with a quick kiss on the cheek, which was about all the PDA Bucky was comfortable with, usually. “If the ladies were drinking, I’m going to go ahead and call it for them,” Tony said. “More lung power, you know.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Bucky said. He gazed around the room, then added, “Messier, too.” Bucky’s interests, not running to the mechanical most of the time, he let Billie explain her project to him, in detail, but stuck close to Tony’s side, rather than wandering about the room. He didn’t stay long and groaned at his phone when he got a text about ten minutes later. “Ug. Gotta run, there’s a customer dispute.” He leaned in and gave Tony a quick hug and squeezed his hand before messing up Billie’s hair. “See you guys at home soon.”

“We’re going to go grab tacos,” Billie informed him. “Uncle Tony said.”

“Sure, okay,” Bucky said, nodding. He tipped an imaginary hat to the principal on his way out and Tony watched him go, all long legs and easy-going swagger.

A few minutes later, Darcy came back in, carrying a can of ginger ale from the PTSA’s fund-raiser table, since the PTSA pretty much cashed in on every single school event to sell overpriced candy bars and sodas and the various school-logo decorated paraphernalia. “This school is confusing,” she complained. “For a one story building, there’s no reason why the room numbers are the way they are. I mean, you turn a corner and it goes from room 12 to room 302.”

“Double-digit vs. triple-digit room numbers distinguish between the original building and the add-on wings,” Tony said. He’d also complained about the numbers when Billie had started at the school. The explanation, in his opinion, didn’t really do any good, because it was all one building _now_ , but that’s what he’d been told. Might as well pay it forward. “It looks like they’re winding down,” he added. “And since I was here for setup, the other guy’s stuck with sticking around for cleanup. You about ready to go get some tacos?”

“ _Please_ ,” Darcy said. “I also require obscene amounts of guac, with a tiny amount of chips to use as shovels. I’d eat it with a spoon, but that might be taking the pregnant stereotype a little far.”

Billie huffed and complained about having to pack up her robot and her fold-up display board, and was even huffier when Tony insisted that she at least carry the robot part of it, mostly, he thought, because she wanted to hold Darcy’s hand, which was impossible to do and not drop the robot box at the same time. Which was cute and everything, but Tony had discovered the hard way that he couldn’t carry the trifold and the box at the same time, and putting the bot back together for a third time that night was not on his to-do list.

Darcy entertained him with the story of how utterly lost she’d gotten in the school and ended up going out the back door to where the pods were, walking around the entire outside of the school so she could go in the front door and follow the event signs again. “I hope your kid doesn’t get my sense of direction,” Darcy said. “You’ll have to install one of those pet microchips or something, for every time they need to go pee.”

“That might actually not be a bad idea,” Tony said, pretending to think it over. “What do you think, buttercup; we could get you ‘chipped and then when you wind up over at Kendra’s house without telling us first, we wouldn’t end up calling every single person we know in a ten-mile radius to find you.”

“You could jus’ get me a phone,” Billie pointed out, as if she was being only reasonable. “An’ then you could jus’ text _me_.”

“I dunno, chipping you would be so much easier.” Tony winked at Darcy, then waved good night to the school secretary as they left the building.

“Uh-huh,” Billie said. “An’ I’ll be a cyborg, an’ I’ll make an army of robots an’ take over the world.” She looked up at him. “You wouldn’ want that on your con… consc… you would feel bad about it.”

“You’re going to have to start making them a little sturdier if you want them to conquer the world,” Tony advised. “Maybe start with ones that can handle being dropped six inches.”

Billie hurumped at him and started talking to the ‘bot in her arms. “It’s okay, Viz, he’s just mean. You don’t haff t’ listen to him. You’re a perfectly good robot.” She mock-glared up at him. “You hurt Vision’s feelings!”

Tony turned to look at Darcy. “It’s been nice knowing you, but apparently I’m going to be first on the line in the robot revolution.”

Darcy made a few awkward, robot-type dance moves. “Too bad. I’ll just blend in, pretend to be one of them. Roger-roger.”

Billie continued on the theme of taking over the planet all the way out to the car, and at least halfway through dinner, but dismissed the idea when Darcy pointed out that robots would probably not be very interested in continuing to harvest cocoa beans, and therefore, there would be a shortage of chocolate in short order, as the surviving humans tried to deal with their new, stressful lives under the robot overlords.

“You may have saved the world,” Tony said, and fluttered his eyelashes ridiculously at Darcy, like the heroine from a third-rate movie. “How can I ever repay you?”

Darcy bowed her head, gesturing extravagantly. “The opportunity to save the world is payment enough. You know… heroic speechifying and all that. Oh, and a statue. I want a statue to me, somewhere displayed prominently. People can come and remember me.” She fluffed out her hair, humming _Hero of Canton_ under her breath.

Tony cackled loud enough to turn heads. “I’m so glad you’re having my baby,” he told her. “It wouldn’t feel right to have a baby with someone who wasn’t also a huge dork.”

“Nerdiness is hereditary,” Darcy agreed. “I got it from my dad. Biggest Tolkien geek you could ever meet. He’s actually got original edition, signed copies of _Fellowship of the Rings_ and _Two Towers_. He’s still combing collectable bookshops for the third one. _The Hobbit_ was one of my bedtime stories.” She smiled fondly, reaching out to pat Tony’s hand. “We’re going to have the biggest geek-baby ever.”  

***

“My least favorite time of the year,” Jan said, dragging one car seat out of the back of her Audi A7, “is the end of first quarter -- here, Tony, take him, would you? -- followed by the end of second quarter and so on. Why, I ask you, do businesses arbitrarily decide to set all the deadlines for every three months? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… Oh, watch it, she’s been grabbing things and putting everything in her mouth recently. Sleeves. Grass. Glove fingers. Rocks. You name it, if she can get her hands on it, it’s in the mouth! Wouldn’t it just be easier to kinda spread deadlines around a little? Just so everything’s not due at once? All your employees and engineers and managers are all going bald at once. How does that -- crap, note to self, wash the pacifier before I give it back to him -- how does that help anyone?”

Tony obediently took Henry’s carseat and the several bags of stuff Jan handed him. “It helps the bean counters,” he said. “In some way. I’m not sure. I decided to major in mechanical engineering, not business, remember? It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too, darling,” Jan said. She kissed the side of Tony’s jaw. “Thanks for letting us come visit on short notice. Again. Maybe we’ll just make it a standing date, yes? I’ll come down for a week or so, every three months? Besides, I totally want to meet your surrogate, and you need practice parenting with babies. They’re so much more work than I was expecting, honestly.” Jan pushed her hair out of her face, tucking strands behind her ears; she looked like she hadn’t gotten a haircut since the last time they’d seen her; her normally sleek pixie-style hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and she was wearing sweatpants. Bejeweled and fashionable and probably expensive sweatpants, but sweatpants nonetheless. “I thought about hiring a nanny to help out, but Hank got all bent out of shape about Papa’s money and--” She waved a hand around, frustrated. “I mean, yes, it is Papa’s company, but I do, well, _did_ , work there, and… whatever. Honestly, _men_.” She gave Tony a startled look, then hastily corrected herself. “Well, not you. Or Bucky. You two are lovely and not at all macho and overbearing about some things that can’t be helped.”

“Bucky had trouble adjusting to having money at first,” Tony confided. “Maybe he can give you some tips on how to approach Hank without tripping his pride.” He hefted the carrier -- Henry had to have doubled in size since Christmas, he swore -- and gestured for Jan to precede him up the stairs to the house. “Your timing is suspiciously good,” he told her, “since I actually don’t have class tonight, and-- Oh, Jesus, Jan, what happened to your arm?” The whole back of her arm was a mottled purple bruise.

“I fell,” she said, shortly. “I swear, so clumsy these days. You should see my ribs. I hit the corner of the dresser and then bounced into the wall. Lucky I wasn’t carrying the twins. No more heels for a while, I guess. My balance is just not what it used to be.” She bounced her daughter on her hip a few times, getting her resettled and then gave Tony a bright, wide smile. “Did I tell you I got an almost word? Well, a sound. Hank says it doesn’t count as a word. But I think ‘ta-ta’ is a perfectly good word, don’t you, Hope? Don’t you think?”

“Ta!” Hope agreed. Or maybe she was just repeating the sounds her mother was making. Jan kissed the baby several times, making loud smacking noises with her mouth until Hope was pushing at her mom’s face with both hands. “Ta!”

Tony grinned at the cute display as he unfastened Henry’s carseat. (It hadn’t gotten any less complicated over the last three months, he noted. Surely, there had to be a better way. Maybe that could be his senior thesis project.) “Sounds like she’s got something to say,” he agreed. He hefted Henry and propped the baby on his hip. “What about you, big guy? You got any good noises?”

If Henry had anything to say, Tony wasn’t getting it. Instead, the six-month old boy tried valiantly to poke Tony’s eye. Tony might have been worried, except Henry’s aim was terrible. Tony got drool-soaked fingers on his cheek, and near the corner of his mouth, and was able to lean his head back far enough to avoid getting a pair of them stuffed up his nose before Henry lost interest in the game.

Jan spread a blanket out on the floor, laid Hope down on her stomach. “Watch her, she’s been scooting a bit recently, too. Overachiever. Not like this one.” She held out her arms for Henry. “He’s just waiting for the next best thing to come to him. Yeah, he knows that someone will get him what he wants, when he wants it. Yes, he does know that.” She sat him on the floor next to his sister. “On the other hand, bad parenting or not, he’ll sit in front of the television for a good twenty minutes before he gets bored and starts crying. Gives me time for a shower.”

Tony wanted to ask why Hank wasn’t watching the twins long enough for Jan to shower, but he didn’t want to set off another of her tirades. Instead, he said, “Well, you can take all the showers you want while you’re here. You’ll have no lack of volunteers to keep an eye on them.”

Jan made a dramatic swoop of her arm, resting the back of her hand against her forehead like she might swoon. “Marry me,” she said. “I’ll be Bucky’s sister-wife. Live the life of luxury I deserve. A full shower. Both legs, shaved at the same time! Actually get to rinse conditioner out of my hair. How will I ever survive?”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, I don’t see Bucky going for that,” he said. “Anyway, what happened to all those times you made that terrible face at the thought of marrying me? You spent my whole prom explaining to every person you met that we weren’t actually dating.” He looked down at Henry solemnly. “Don’t be an ego-destroying life-ruiner like your mother, kiddo.”

For just a moment, Jan’s eyes flashed, hurt. “Consider it a gift,” she said. “If I’d actually admitted to having a crush, you’d have probably dated me, and it would have been a _disaster_. If for no other reason than you would have hated yourself for doing what Howard wanted you to do. I didn’t dislike either of us enough to put us through that.” She tried on a smile and it almost fit. “Besides, you were my best friend. You _are_ my best friend. I wasn’t about to mess that up with high school bullshit. Which, as we all know, was high school bullshit. Even when we were _in_ high school, we knew that.”

“That’s true,” Tony admitted. “Even if I was too young to be in high school at the time.” He tipped his head. “Did you really have a crush on me? That’s terrible, Jan. I always thought you had better taste than that.”

She spread her hands. “I don’t know. Sometimes it seems like that, looking back at it. I admired you. You were always braver than me. Still are.” She gestured around at the house. “You gave everything up and started over. More than once. That takes… well, it takes guts.”

Tony shrugged. “It took a lot of desperation,” he said. “I don’t know if that’s bravery so much as straight-up survival instinct. Anyway, I wasn’t brave _then_. I was just willing to let you treat me like a life-sized Ken doll.” He grinned.

“Well, that, too,” she said. “And you looked _damned_ good. Which you well knew.” She laughed, lightly, then rescued one of Billie’s doll-shoes from Hope before she ate it. “I’ve been getting them onto actual food recently -- if you want to call unsalted pea slurry _food_ \-- and Hope’s adventurous. She wants to taste everything. But no, you were a good sport, Tony. Never made me feel silly or useless for liking clothes. I don’t know, sorry, I’m being all maudlin again. Once I get the twins on solids, my therapist wants to put me on something for it. Mommy’s little helper.” She gave a self-deprecating sort of laugh.

Tony grimaced. His own mother had barely escaped outright addiction. “Maybe it’ll help just to get some regular sleep,” he suggested. “Have they gotten any better on that front?”

Whether Jan was getting sleep or not would have to wait. Two sets of stomping feet were on their way up the stairs, “...no, no, no!” Darcy was saying, as she opened the door, ushering Tony’s daughter into the living room. “Oh! Hi, Tony. Please tell Billie we are _not_ having a litter of puppies!”

Billie was waving a drawing just out of Darcy’s reach that -- Tony squinted a few times -- featured a very round-bellied person with a see-through stomach. Inside were, as Darcy said, dogs. Or maybe they were foxes. Hard to tell. Bunnies? They were purple, at any rate.

“People give birth to people, buttercup,” he told Billie obediently. “Unless you’ve been sneaking out to Darcy’s hotel at night to perform mad science experiments on her. In which case you are definitely grounded.” He grinned. “Darce, come and say hi to my best friend, Janet Van Dyne. Jan, this is Darcy Lewis, my -- as she so eloquently put it the other day -- _baby momma_.”

Jan extended a hand, then pulled Darcy into a hug. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said. “Can I?” She fluttered her fingers around Darcy’s still completely flat stomach. “I feel like I’ve been waiting _forever_ to say hi to Tony’s baby. I even brought a few of my own, so you can practice. And some spare clothes that they’ve outgrown. I promise, I won’t even start pushing for a pre-birth betrothal to one or the other of the twins and carry on the tradition of Stark and Van Dyne mommas attempting to merge the families.”

Darcy managed a nod of permission before gushing into a bit of a fashion freak-out, commenting on the Van Dyne showing at London Fashion week and making a few disparaging comments about Vera Wang’s over-interpretation of cold-shoulder gowns, or something. Tony didn’t much care. In the meanwhile, Jan had bent over, hand pressed to Darcy’s stomach and was talking earnestly to the somewhat larger blob of cells that would eventually become a baby.

“I don’t think I could sneak all th’ way to her hotel,” Billie was saying, waving the picture around, “unless you gimme a ride, Uncle Tony. My feet don’ reach the pedals yet. An’ an’ an’, I was jus’ thinking, since I wanted a sister or brother, an’ you got that, and then Clint took Lucky, maybe we could jus’... fix everything? There’s room in there f’r an extra puppy, don’t you think?”

Darcy made a face. “No, no, I do not think there’s room in here for a puppy, no.”

“I have to vote with Darcy on this one,” Tony said, ruffling Billie’s hair. “Come help Aunt Jan take care of the twins; that should satisfy your urge to hold something warm and wriggly.”

“Nothin’ wrong with _both_ ,” Billie was still muttering, but got distracted as soon as Hope pushed herself up on her hands, more of a belly-slide than actual crawling. Billie dropped to the floor to coach her along.

Hank started to whimper, a prelude to his full, obnoxiously loud wail, but settled down when Tony scooped him up, and sat on the sofa, lap full of baby.

“So… when are you due?” Jan asked, throwing herself down on the sofa as well. “And have you picked out names yet, Tony?”

***

Bucky told himself very firmly not to look over Gwen’s shoulder on his way out the door. She was taking the grill for the first time, unsupervised. It was Wednesday, and not a very busy day even during the summer, so it should be fine, and it’s not like he was going all that far away. If she set the kitchen on fire, he’d know about it pretty quick.

He was about halfway up the stairs and wondering if it made him a bad parent -- and more to the fact, if Tony would mind if they ordered a pizza for dinner. He always felt a little guilty about it, but after running a restaurant, sometimes he really just _did not want_ to cook dinner. They could get onions and mushrooms as toppings and pretend that Billie was getting her vegetables.

He opened the door to a blur of motion and sound. Jan Van Dyne was on his sofa, her shirt hiked up while she showed off her c-section scar to a curious Darcy. Three kids -- his own, and two extra ones -- were on the floor, along with Tony, who was laying on the carpet with his feet kicked up in the air, dancing a little stuffed animal around for the entertainment of the twins. The sappy smile Tony was wearing and the ridiculous noises he was making did that weird… thing to Bucky’s heart again, where everything squished and expanded at the same time, and for a long moment, he was reluctant to even say hi and spoil it. Just stood there in the doorway, looking.

But it was only a moment later that Tony looked up and saw Bucky, anyway. The goofy smile Tony was wearing got bigger and even happier, and he scrambled to his feet. “Hey, babe! We have surprise guests again. Hope that’s okay.” He stepped carefully over the twins’ blanket to wind his arms around Bucky’s neck for a kiss.

“Open door policy to anyone bearing gifts and babies,” Bucky said. He took the offered kiss and pretended not to notice when Billie was making her _ug, parents_ face again. Someone had recently informed her that kissing was gross.  

“Damn, knew I forgot something,” Jan piped up before going right back to what was apparently an ongoing conversation with Darcy detailing the delivery of the twins, via c-section after a stalled labor. Well, so much for having an appetite.

“Uncle Bucky, look at my picture!” Billie piped up, shoving a sheet of construction paper up into his field of view. “Darcy an’ Uncle Tony didn’t like it,” she added, pouting.

“I didn’t say that!” Tony protested quickly.

“You said it was _wrong_!”

“Wrong isn’t always bad,” Tony hedged. “And stop trying to play Bucky and me off against each other. It won’t work.”

Bucky peered down at the artwork. “We’re having bunny babies?” His eyebrow went up, and then up again. “What are baby bunnies called? Kittens, right? Are they kittens? I know a whole bunch of baby bunnies are called a litter. I like it. It’s got a kinda Andre Masson feel to it. I especially like the use of purple, here. Are we getting into symbolism here, kiddo? Magic, sort of mysticism?” Bucky hadn’t listened to Steve talk about artists for years without picking up a lot of random trivia and artistic bullshit. Sounded good, meant nothing. Bucky could talk his way around an art gallery without any help these days. Half the time, Steve didn’t even realize that Bucky was making shit up as he went.

“Uncle _Buc_ ky!” Billie protested, with the sort of eye-roll that meant she felt he was being particularly dense. “They’re not _bunnies_ , they’re _puppies_!”

“Puppies,” Tony added, “that are definitely not going to share space with the baby in Darcy’s tummy. No matter how much ‘extra’ room there is.”

“There is not _any_ extra room,” Darcy wailed. “I'm going to be enormous as it is!”

“Ooooh, puppies,” Bucky said. “I see. Okay. Silly me. I thought you were being _surrealist_ , not impressionist.  So, what you're saying here is that Darcy is a--”

“I promise, if you call me the b-word, Mr. Barnes,” Darcy said, shaking a finger at him, “you won't live to regret it.”

Tony and Jan were practically clinging to each other in an attempt not to laugh out loud. Tony’s face was buried in Jan’s neck and he was shaking with silent laughter, and Jan’s hand was firmly over her mouth, which only served to draw attention to the way her eyes danced.

“Come on,” Tony finally managed, reaching out a hand to Darcy. “We won’t let Billie turn you into a breeder of manimals. Come get back at them by letting Jan finish her gross story for you.” He pulled Darcy down onto the couch on his other side.

“Are you makin’ fun of me?” Billie demanded, all suspicious eyeballs and out thrust chin.

“Not even a little bit, kiddo. I’m doing an art critique. Breaking down what your art makes me feel, to better understand your intentions. It's appreciation for the medium.”

“Oh.” Billie looked back at her drawing. “Does that mean we can frame it?”

“How about we put it on the fridge for a while? If you still think it's a good representation of your spring period, we can look into that.”

“Ohhhh,” Jan said, her voice wobbling dangerously. Bucky looked up, and sure enough she was already dabbing tears from the corners of her eyes. “You’re just such good parents, I can’t stand it!”

Tony threw an arm around her and pulled her in against his chest.

Jan let herself be cuddled for a moment, then batted him off. “Go on, I’m fine, stop fussing. I’m just so emotional these days. But you two really are wonderful. I can’t _wait_ to see you with your own baby!” She wiped at her nose, then cut a sideways look at Darcy. “Or babies?” she suggested, trying for sly but still somewhat watery. “How long until that initial ultrasound?”

“Like, two more weeks. We couldn’t hear a heartbeat at the last appointment, but they said that’s normal, it usually doesn’t show up for a while,” Darcy said, after checking her phone. She waggled it at Jan, the little baby calendar program showing up. “First ultrasound, honestly, they just look like blobs to me. Maybe it’ll look different when it’s personal.”

If Bucky had his way, they’d be framing the first ultrasound pictures. As it was, they were keeping a detailed scrapbook. Maria had presented the book, but both Tony and Bucky had been enthusiastic about the idea. It was a little weird, adding the photos they’d taken of Darcy and Bucky found himself vaguely wondering what was going to happen, after delivery. She’d sort of… twisted her way into their little family.

“Janet Van Dyne, don’t you dare wish twins on us,” Tony threatened. He was grinning, but his eyes looked a little wild around the edges. They’d all found out at Christmas just how much work it was to take care of two babies at once.

“Triplets?” Jan suggested, innocently. “I mean, you have _four arms_ between you. You could manage four babies… I manage two, with two arms. It’d be like a vacation, really.”

Bucky scowled and flipped Jan off where Billie couldn’t see (hopefully). “No, no it would not. We don’t have room for that, either. I’m hardly the carpenter my Ma was.” Not that there was room for an addition onto the house; the supports for the building wouldn’t tolerate a third floor.

“Uncle Bucky?” Billie asked, suddenly. “What’s for dinner?”

Bucky smacked himself in the head with the heel of his hand. “Crap. I was… how’s pizza sound? We can get delivery?” That was always fun; despite leaving messages on the website, or saying so when he actually called for delivery, drivers always went to the front door of the restaurant and were extremely befuddled when the kitchen staff would call up for Bucky to get his ass down there and pay for it.

Billie jumped around, shouting _pizza, pizza_ , which got both twins excited, and Tony eventually had to break out notebook paper and a pencil to figure out who got what toppings on which sides of what pizza.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mostly-smut chapter. Smut-averse folk: feel free to skip it!

The third time that Bucky shifted and rolled over, Tony propped himself up on one elbow. “What’s going on over there?”

“A lot of _nothin’_ ,” Bucky said. He fluffed his pillow up again a little more violently than necessary, as if it were personally responsible for a restless night. “Ain’t heard nothin’ from the cops, like what the hell are they doin’, stakeouts at the Krispy Kreme?” He sighed and practically threw himself back on the bed. Tony doubted that was restful at all.

“If whoever took the guns isn’t using them, that’s a good thing, though, right?” Tony said. He slid his hand down Bucky’s arm, and back up, trying to be soothing. Privately, Tony thought it was most likely that the guns would turn up in a pawnshop somewhere across the state line, but that would take a while to prove.

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky said. He rolled over again, staring up at the ceiling. “Jus’ eats at me. Once m’brain gets itself in a knot about things, it’s like… I dunno, digging in leaves. Everything underneath is all wet an’ slimey.” He made a scoffing sound.

“I know,” Tony said. “You like worrying.” He smiled a little at Bucky’s affronted noise, but didn’t stop stroking Bucky’s arm and shoulder. “You know what gets me? Were you listening to Jan and Darcy earlier? I had no idea so many fucking things could go wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess I knew some of that,” Bucky said. “Ma used t’ complain that I was a problem pregnancy. Especially when I’d done somethin’ she wasn’t happy with. ‘Labor for _twenty-six hours_ , an’ a hundred and ten stitches, an’ you pull this stunt, James Buchanan?’ Whereas Becca, she just sort of popped out, no fuss no muss.”

“Maybe ‘cause she was so much older when she had you?” Tony guessed. “I dunno. It’s all just... freaky. Why are the girls not freaked out about this? Do you think they are, and they’re just hiding it from us?”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno what it was like for you, skippin’ a bunch of grades an’ all, certified genius,” he said, nudging Tony playfully. “But did you hafta sit through driver’s ed as part of your gym class? Coach’s up there, ramblin’ on, an’ he tells us that one in three car accidents happen within a mile of your home. One in _three_. I spent _years_ scared t’ death of hittin’ a customer’s car in the lot or pullin’ out into the street, even tho I drove like a demon soon’s I passed the sign out of town.”

“Yeah?” Tony snuggled a little closer. “Dad taught me to drive when I was, hm, maybe twelve or thirteen. Working on cars was about the only time we could be civil to each other. Got my license during summer break after my freshman year.”

“Thing is, I’d never thought about it, ‘cept Coach brought it up,” Bucky said. “People drive every day. An’ the only time I ever had anythin’ happen… well, Nat’ll tell you about it. Practically ran over the curb near her place an’ got my axle bent. Back when she an’ Steve first moved in there. Which is nowhere near here. So I spent all that time worryin’ about something that never happened. I guess… I dunno, maybe it’s good for them to talk about it. Sayin’ what _could_ happen’s like a lucky charm that it _won’t_ happen.”

“Then I’m relieved to know we’re safe from twins and triplets,” Tony said with a shudder. “I love Henry and Hope, but oh my _god_ , I don’t think I could do that full time. I have no idea how Jan manages. Especially since I get the impression Hank’s not exactly a hands-on kind of dad.”

“Well, ain’t like we’re gonna throw the spare in th’ trash,” Bucky said with a shrug. “If it happens, we’ll figure it out. Honest, you an’ Jan are a lot alike. You both grit down and get ‘er done when you need to. I’d never have pegged her for it, when we first met. She was so… flighty.” Bucky waved his hand around absently.

“I’m not sure I ever knew how much of that was real and how much of that was an _image_ thing,” Tony confessed. “Little worried about her lately, I admit. I can’t tell how much she’s changed because she’s just... adulting, and how much is her being worn out and stressed and _moody_ because of the twins. Hank needs to at least let her hire a nanny so she can get some sleep once in a while.”

Bucky rolled over again until he was on his side, facing Tony. “She an’ Hank get on each other’s nerves a lot,” he said, tracing a circle on Tony’s shoulder. “I would kill you if you were gone s’often. Or cry all th’ time. Hard to say which.”

“I guess not everyone can have a marriage as good as ours,” Tony said, just a touch flippantly. “I was gone a lot when I was dealing with my dad’s stuff,” he pointed out. “You managed okay. But I guess that was... extenuating circumstances.” He shrugged. “They have to work it out themselves, though. Not much we can do but be here for her when she needs to get away.” He made a face. “Not that I like the idea of needing to get away from your spouse, but... it does sound like the best thing for them all, when he’s in one of these deadline ruts.”

Bucky nuzzled at Tony’s shoulder. “ _Managed_ is a word. Missed you like crazy. Used t’ have crazy, stupid thoughts; you’d spend so much time up in th’ City, an’ not want to come back. That Stone would, you know, convince you to go back to him. None of that never happened, just wasted time worryin’. Which--” he sounded a little ashamed of himself “--is exactly what I’m doin’ now.”

Tony snorted a little. “Those are definitely some crazy worries,” he said. “Glad I don’t have to go back very often anymore if that’s what keeps you up when I’m gone.” He ducked in to kiss Bucky’s nose. “Always coming home to you.” He considered, head cocked, and then smirked. “Maybe we should just distract ourselves from the crazy worries, hm?”

“Yeah?” Bucky gave Tony a quick, nuzzling kiss, then backed off, playing keep-away with his mouth. “What, you got some sorta _distraction_ in mind, babydoll? ‘Cause you ain’t a distraction. Most of the rest of my life’s the distraction. You’re th’ main event.”

Bucky said stuff like that pretty often -- he was _such_ a romantic -- but it never failed to make Tony’s stomach turn flips. Tony chased after Bucky’s mouth, claiming another kiss, a little longer than before. “I mean, I was going to suggest we break out the Parcheesi board,” he said, suppressing a smirk, “but if you want to jump straight to the main event, I suppose we can do that.”

“Do we even _own_ a Parcheesi board?” Bucky asked. “Why would we do that to ourselves? We need t’ talk about your sadistic tendencies. Next you’ll suggest we play figure eight Monopoly or somethin’.” He scooched over on the bed until he was invading Tony’s space, running his hand down Tony’s arm and twined their fingers together. “You know I’ll do--” He dropped a light kiss on Tony’s mouth, then followed the line up his jaw and bit, gently, on Tony’s earlobe “--whatever you _want_.”

Tony shivered and tipped his head to give Bucky more room to work. “Whatever I want, hm? So if I said I wanted you to fuck me ‘til I can’t see straight, you’d be on board, huh?”

Bucky leaned in, touched his finger to the spot just between Tony’s eyes, laughing as Tony involuntarily crossed his eyes to follow the path. “I don’t know, you might need to see again later. But I could be convinced to…” He mouthed his way down to Tony’s collarbone, then sucked a soft bruise onto the skin where it wouldn’t be seen. “... hmmm… fuck you until you can’t _stand up_.” He licked over the spot a few times, soothing the skin.

Tony sighed happily and slipped his fingers into Bucky’s hair. “That... is an acceptable compromise,” he managed. He wriggled his ankle between Bucky’s calves and then rolled in, letting his thigh press gently against Bucky’s groin, nudging playfully. “Yeah, I think I can live with that.”

Bucky inhaled, just a little deeper than before and pulled Tony against him, closing the space between them. He kissed Tony like a promise, possessive and almost harsh. Teased at Tony’s mouth with the tip of his tongue until Tony opened and let him in, then delved deeper. His hands slid under Tony’s back, holding him closer, one hand supporting Tony’s spine, the other cupping at the back of his neck. “God, you’re sweet,” Bucky murmured, pulling back just a little to breathe.

“And just a little bit spicy,” Tony said, ducking in to nip at Bucky’s neck before coming back to Bucky’s mouth, a silent question instantly answered. “Just dying for you to eat me up.”

“Is that so?” Bucky made a little scoffing sound, then slithered down, kissing and licking at Tony’s skin as he went. Traced the line of his collarbone, and down further to lap at Tony’s nipple, blowing cool air over the wet skin. He shifted, gave the same treatment to the other side, fingers coming up to tease at the hard peak.

Tony whined involuntarily, arching into it. Every time, every time it was a surprise, how good that felt, little shocks of heat that seemed to melt straight into his cock, making it fuller and harder.  Tony clenched his hand in Bucky’s hair, not trying to direct, just... holding on. His other hand slipped over Bucky’s shoulder, down the curve of Bucky’s back. He couldn’t reach Bucky’s ass like this, but he could tease along Bucky’s ribs, could drag his fingernails across the sensitive spot near the base of Bucky’s spine.

Bucky looked up at the sound, a captivating smile playing over his lips and he returned to Tony’s mouth, drinking in the little noises coming from Tony’s throat. Claimed Tony’s mouth with his own. He leaned over Tony, all dark, tousled hair and warm skin and gleaming eyes. Bucky kissed like a force of nature, inevitable. He tasted Tony’s mouth, pulled back to change the angle and did it again, his tongue running along Tony’s lip. “Love th’ way you want it, baby,” he said, hips moving easily, rocking against Tony’s thigh.

He kissed Tony again, rough and eager. Pulled Tony close, ‘til there was nothing, not a millimeter of space between them and thrust against Tony’s thigh, forcing a grunt of effort out of Bucky’s throat.

Slid down, the blankets closing over his head as he went, and then he was tonguing at Tony’s hip, teeth scraping lightly along the line of his pelvis, tongue dipping into trace the groove. His hand lingered on Tony’s ribs, curled down and he drew circles around Tony’s navel, then followed the line of dark hair that led south.

Tony shuddered as he pushed into each touch, wanting and then needing. “God, you’re so...” His hands clenched and unclenched, pulling at Bucky’s hair, fisting in the bedsheets. “Need you so bad,” he begged.

“Yeah?” Bucky tugged the sheet down until Tony could see him, practically hovering scant inches from Tony’s cock. He said it like it was somehow new information, or valuable, or validating. The smile on his face was brilliant, almost glowing with pleased pride. His fingers continued down the path, and then brushed, light, over Tony’s skin, stroking along his shaft, just the faintest pressure.

Tony fought to lift into the touch, to get more friction, more heat, more _something_. “Bucky,” he whined, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring. “Please, baby, just... _god_.” Bucky liked to tease, liked to make Tony beg for it. It made something hot unfurl in Tony’s body, so he guessed he liked it, too, but in the moment it was glorious torture.

Maybe there was just enough desperation in his tone, because Bucky made a small, bewitching noise and then spread Tony’s thighs, mouth coming down to close over the head of Tony’s cock, all warm welcome and slick sensation. Tony was consumed by the softness of Bucky’s mouth, by the gentle, eager touch. The way Bucky’s tongue moved, languid and thorough, flicking along the big vein, down to the base and up again. Opened his mouth wide and took Tony in, the magnificent pressure of his lips as Bucky gorged himself on Tony’s prick. He swallowed, sending waves of pulsing pleasure up Tony’s spine.

“Oh, _god_ , baby, that’s _perfect_.” Tony forced himself not to thrust up into Bucky’s mouth, but he carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair almost desperately. “How do you do that to me, christ, I-- oh, _fuck_ , Bucky...” He spread his legs wider, inviting, _needing_ Bucky to touch him, to open him up and fill him.

He pulled back, flicking his tongue one last time over Tony’s slit, then settled in between Tony’s thighs. He leaned on one elbow, his free hand moving over Tony’s cock, stroking the shaft, thumbing over the head, teasing along the ridge. He traced a circle around each of Tony’s balls, then pressed his thumb against Tony’s perineum. “You want this, babydoll?” His finger slid even further back, the pad teasing against Tony’s hole, a quick brush and then back to stroking up and down Tony’s thighs, along the curve of his ass. “You know _I_ do. Wanna get you all slick an’ open for me.” He dropped his chin again, lapped Tony’s prick from base to head, managing to look up all innocent and angelic, eyelashes fluttering.

Tony groaned and let his head drop back onto the pillow. “ _Yes_ , I want it,” he grated. “Want you, want all of you, always.” He stretched his arms up over his head, shoving them under the pillows as he arched his spine, stretching his body out to show off the lean muscle he knew drove Bucky crazy. “Want you, need you, _please_.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to Tony’s thigh. “You got me, babe, I promise,” Bucky said, hands moving easy, soft and soothing as he scooted back up. He dug around in the bedside table for the lube, made a little triumphant sound when he found it. “Here, that’s for you --” he pressed a bottle -- shaped like a damn honey bear -- into Tony’s hand “--and this is for me.” He gave Tony a hard, fast kiss and then shifted all the way around until his head was around Tony’s knee, already working the cap of the lube off. “One of these days, they’re going to make lube jars that just, freaking hover or something. I never quite know where to put the damn thing down.” Gravitational difficulties aside, Bucky managed, pressing a slick fingertip to Tony’s hole, testing the muscle.

Tony looked at the bottle in his hand and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, where the hell did you find _tiramisu-flavored lube_?” he demanded. He flicked the lid open and dabbed at it to test the flavor. Not too bad, actually. He squeezed out a generous dollop and smeared it on Bucky’s cock, since Bucky had helpfully moved it within reaching distance.

“All --” Bucky interrupted himself to groan at Tony’s touch, hips rolling helplessly. “All things are found in the internet.”

“I’m just going to check your search history later, you know,” Tony pointed out. He punctuated it by dragging his tongue up Bucky’s cock from root to tip, flicking over the head. “Mm, not bad at all.” He took a firmer hold and started licking along Bucky’s length like it was a popcicle in danger of melting.

Bucky made a low, growling, satisfied sound. He teased a few more times, rubbing little circles around Tony’s hole, and then nudged his finger inside. Twisted his wrist. “God, baby… that feels _amazing_.” He slipped out, added more lube before pushing in two fingers; a bit of a burn there, stretching Tony out.

Once he got two in, smooth, Bucky stayed there for a while, pumping his fingers in and out of Tony’s ass, nailing his prostate with steady strokes, keeping his rhythm constant, only changing up the pressure as Tony wriggled and squirmed to get Bucky’s fingers in the perfect spot.

Tony focused on Bucky’s cock, on licking and sucking and finding all those little spots he knew were there, the places that made Bucky gasp and curse and writhe uncontrollably. He flicked his tongue over Bucky’s slit, dragged his tongue slow and firm along the big vein on the underside, and tested each little wrinkle and fold around the head. He had to stop once or twice to pant through a burn or whine at the way Bucky was teasing at his prostate, but every time he made Bucky pause, he counted as a personal victory.

Bucky shivered, hips moving in rapid, shallow circles. He groaned, deep and guttural, when Tony sucked him back. “Oh, god, baby, that’s…” He couldn’t seem to make a coherent sentence, fading out. “So nice…”

He dropped a kiss on the inside of Tony’s thigh, then slowly pulled his fingers out. Tony heard the lube container again, then a muffled swear and a rather large, cold dollop of lube dripped down one buttcheek and settled under Tony’s thigh. “Sorry,” Bucky muttered. He shifted a little, tugged Tony’s leg until he made enough room to work.

Using both hands to separate Tony’s cheeks, he rubbed against the open and aching hole, using both thumbs to tease at Tony’s rim. After having Bucky’s fingers in him, Tony felt strangely hollow, and at the same time the way Bucky was caressing him left him shaking with need.

“Oh, god,” he groaned. “Bucky, you... are the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” He sucked Bucky’s cock into his mouth, as deep as he could manage at this angle, feeling its thickness and weight against his tongue. It was a desperate gambit -- filling his mouth to take his attention off the aching emptiness of his ass -- but it was a good one. Tony loved the way Bucky tasted, with or without ridiculous dessert-flavored lube.

“Baby, baby,” Bucky said, gasping, his fingers slowing in their movements. “I… you ready? I can’t wait, I need… need t’ be in you.” Bucky jerked his hips backward, pulling out of Tony’s mouth with an obscene sucking sound.

Tony chased after him for a second, before Bucky’s words registered, and then he was all in, sliding back so Bucky could reverse positions again. “Yes, fuck, yes, get up here,” he demanded, dragging Bucky into a kiss as soon as he could reach Bucky’s head. “Need you now.”

Bucky’s kisses were rough, invading, licking at the remnants of lube on Tony’s lip, and then nipping at his mouth. “You… beautiful… man,” Bucky managed to gasp between kisses, as if trying to sate himself on Tony’s mouth. He shifted, half laying on Tony, cock thrusting against Tony’s thigh, then got up on his hands and knees. “Come on, baby, let’s… on your side, baby, I wanna try somethin’.”

It took Bucky a moment to get Tony shifted the way he wanted, and he kept stopping his instructions to kiss and lick and caress at whatever part of Tony he could currently reach, which was distracting as hell, but finally Tony was on his side with Bucky practically sitting on Tony’s thigh. It was almost like spooning, but when Bucky pressed the head of his cock against Tony’s hole, he could feel an entire world of different, and it was _nothing_ like spooning.

“Oh!” Tony gasped, because that stretch was completely different from usual. “Oh, you have the best ideas.” He curled his hands around Bucky’s thighs, feeling like he was going to need to hold on for dear life shortly. “This is going to be _wild_.”

Bucky shifted, laced the fingers of one hand with Tony’s. “I got you,” he promised, then pushed forward, slow, but implacable. “You feel so good, baby.”

Another twist of Bucky’s hips and he slid a few inches in, the thickness of him pressing against Tony’s inner walls in new and interesting ways. Bucky groaned; his cock pulsed, and he stilled for a moment, letting them both adjust to the sensation.

“That’s... Wow, that’s different,” Tony managed, breathing through the last of the burn, the stretching sensation that was so oddly misplaced, but not in a bad way. “That’s _really_... Is it different on your end, too?” He wriggled his hips, trying to settle Bucky’s weight comfortably.

“It’s different,” Bucky acknowledged through clenched teeth, then inhaled sharply as Tony settled. He drew back a little before thrusting again and dear god, he was _deep_. “Good different. Crazy good, oh, god, Tony…” He squeezed Tony’s fingers. The angle of the thrust was so strange, as Bucky moved; not nailing Tony’s prostate like it usually did, but almost like brushing against it in a long, impossible stroke. Instead of a hard jolt at the end of the stroke, the sensation was almost constant, a back and forth that was driving Tony wild.

“Oh, my _god_ ,” Tony groaned, tightening his hold on Bucky’s hands. “That’s _amazing_ , that’s--” There weren’t any words. That long drag against his prostate was like a continuous dazzle of lightning through his balls, the sinuous motion of Bucky’s body against his almost hypnotic. “ _God_ ,” Tony said again, helpless to describe it. “We are _so_ doing this one again.”

Bucky produced a strangled moan, then rocked against Tony with several deep, powerful strokes that shook Tony’s entire body. “Yeah, okay.” And then Bucky was practically doubled over, pressing open-mouthed kisses against Tony’s chest and arm. That shifted things again, until Bucky’s thrusts moved him only from deep, to deeper, short little jackhammer strokes. He raised his head to stare at Tony, eyes dark and biting at his lip as he strained and worked in Tony. His motions didn’t stop as he swore and groaned and uttered Tony’s name and a handful of affirmations, an endearment or two.

He balanced on one hand, got the other wrapped around Tony’s cock and gave him a long, slick tug in time with his thrusts.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony moaned. He tried to roll up into the touch, but the position they were in just made Bucky sink a little deeper into him. “Oh, god, baby, _please_ , I’m so close...” He groped at Bucky’s skin, trying to find a good handhold, and curled his hand around the side of Bucky’s neck. “Please...”

“Oh, god, Tony, _Tony_ ,” Bucky gasped. He rocked against Tony, slow, then harder, faster, his hand no longer even close to in time with his strokes, but delicious bursts of friction and heat across Tony’s dick. Another half-dozen thrusts, and Bucky was crying out against Tony’s shoulder, muffling the sound as best he could. “ _Tony_!”

That was all Tony could stand, hearing that edge to Bucky’s voice, the feel of his cock pulsing inside him. Electricity flooded his body and he curled up into Bucky, trying to get close enough to kiss him.

Bucky twisted, doing god only knew what pretzel like things to his spine and met Tony’s mouth with his own, kissing him desperately as he moved and shifted, fucking out the last of his orgasm in hard little bursts. “I love you, baby,” he said, stroking one finger down the side of Tony’s cheek and then kissing him again, sealing their mouths together.

Tony clung tight through his own orgasm, then flopped back down onto the bed with a whoosh of exhausted breath. “That was... That was definitely something different,” he panted. “God, I love you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky looked both pleased and a little smug. “You liked it?”

“So much,” Tony agreed. “We’re definitely putting that one in the list.”

Bucky pulled out with a faint disgruntled noise. “It’s nice,” he said, “that we have a list, y’know. Used t’ mostly bottom, before you, an’ I don’t think I realized how much more _work_ it is, being on top.” He rubbed his nose against Tony’s, teasingly.

Tony hummed and flopped over onto his back. “Is it? Are you feeling overworked?” He grinned up at Bucky.

“Mmmhmmm,” Bucky hummed, resting his chin on Tony’s chest. “But it’s worth it, seein’ you enjoy it so much.”

Tony carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You take such good care of me,” he agreed. “You’re the best.”

“Happy t’ be of service,” Bucky murmured, and snuggled up, throwing one arm over Tony’s waist, which was all nice and good and everything, but… ug, the wet spot was getting a bit cold under Tony’s leg and he was sticky and sweaty. Romance was frequently interrupted by practicality.

“I don’t suppose you want to be of service in the shower?” Tony tried. “In that we could both use one. I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine?”

Bucky made a grumbly, discontented noise, but pushed up from the mattress to practically roll out of bed. “Ug,” he said. “We need a portable personal dry-cleaner or something. Just, you know. Whoosh. Clean. Get on that, certified genius.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony said, laughing as he sat up. “First thing tomorrow. For now: shower, and then sleep.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tisfan was looking stuff up and found [this](https://www.adultland.us/lubes_lotions/lubricants/koala_flavored_lube_tiramisu_6oz). So, you know, Tony has to have it. It’s just mandatory. (Warning: link goes to a sex shop; it is not especially NSFW to look at, but you may not want to click if you're at work or visiting your grandmother.)


	9. Chapter 9

The nurses at the OB/GYN office were getting used to their weird little trio trooping in together for Darcy’s appointments.  They still got the side-eye from people in the waiting room, a lot, which Tony thought was hilarious and made Bucky slightly nervous. They couldn’t all three make every appointment, but they tried, and so far they’d never had to send Darcy to the doctor by herself, which Tony thought was important.

They’d done some heavy schedule shifting so they could all be present for today’s appointment, though -- the first sonogram Darcy’d had, at 12 weeks, had only shown them a swimmy blob, with some fluttery lines that the nurse had assured them was its heart beating. But this one, a little more than halfway through the pregnancy, would show them an actual baby, with a face and fingers and toes and -- if they were lucky -- clues to its sex. (If they could find that out, then it would cut the arguments about names in half. And if it was a boy, Natalia would stop announcing “Natasha Stark,” at random times. Maybe.)

Tony got them checked in while Darcy lowered herself onto the comfortable, but weirdly low, sofa with Bucky’s help.

“I feel like a water buffalo,” Darcy complained. The whole idea of twins had come up again -- Darcy already seemed huge, with half the pregnancy still to go. Maybe that was just because she was so skinny to start with.

“Speakin’ of water,” Bucky said, pushing the bottle of sports drink at her. The blue liquid was one of the few things Darcy said helped with the endless nausea. She glared at him.

“So, not just a water buffalo, but a water buffalo that needs to pee,” she snapped.

The tips of Bucky’s ears turned pink. “Sorry.”

“Just think,” she said, taking the bottle and chugging about half of it before turning on the little sofa and putting her feet in Bucky’s lap, “I could be studying astrophysics at this very moment instead of developing my own gravity well.”

“You ain’t that big,” Bucky said, patting her leg soothingly.

“ _Yet_.” Darcy crossed her arms awkwardly over her belly. “I swear, he’s got his head pressed into my spine and is stretching out like--” She raised her hands over her head until she was all but sprawled across the sofa.

The check-in admin chuckled. She’d probably seen it all a thousand times.

“Having to pee is better than having to puke?” Tony suggested, tucking his wallet back into his pocket and taking the chair situated across from the sofa, since Darcy had claimed the whole thing.

“Well, that is true,” Darcy admitted, reluctantly, as if she wanted to have something to complain about. “And I’m not falling asleep in the middle of dinner so much anymore. Also, more than halfway done! Yay!” She flailed a little at that and Bucky dodged a knee to the chin.

Darcy continued to list off things, both good and bad, in having rolled over the halfway mark. Her newest complaint was random strangers wanting to touch her stomach, which she found both weird and exceptionally disconcerting.

“Like, what’s worst is when people ask, and then they get mad when you say no, like… just because you asked doesn’t mean I want your grimy hands all over me. Jesus. People have no sense of boundaries.”

Tony was about to share an anecdote about some of the grabbier customers he’d encountered at Dockside when the door to the exam rooms opened. “Darcy?” the nurse called.

“That’s us!” Tony crowed, jumping to his feet. He offered Darcy his hands to help pull her to her feet -- he’d seen her manage perfectly well without help, but it was a bit ungainly. “Come on, let’s go see our baby!”

Bucky took up his job -- self-appointed ambulatory shelf, he called it -- and gathered up the random piles of stuff that Darcy seemed to require everywhere she went. Practice, Jan had said firmly, for when there was an actual baby and diaper bags and car seats and bottles and toys and…

They waited in the hall while Darcy got herself into one of the hospital gowns; when she let them back in the room, she was reclined, not looking particularly comfortable, on the bed, a blue disposable blanket draped over her legs and her socks still on. She glared again. “The floor is _cold_.”

“That’s why your socks are still on,” Tony said sagely, taking up his usual position beside Darcy’s head. When Bucky came around to stand on his other side, Tony caught Bucky’s hand in his own and squeezed, excitedly.

“The floor’s not nearly as cold as the goop,” the sonogram technician said cheerfully, pulling out an industrial-sized bottle of gel. “Everyone ready?”

Darcy nodded, glanced back at Tony. “All right, daddies. Let’s see if we’ve got a Natasha or a Nathan.”

“You sold out to Nat?” Tony gasped in mock outrage. The effect was probably spoiled by the way his eyes were glued to the monitor, waiting for that first glimpse. Bucky’s hand tightened on his as the equipment picked up the heartbeat. They’d heard it once before, but that dim _woosh-hiss_ was its own tiny little miracle.

“Of course I sold out to Nat,” Darcy said. “She brings me ice cream, and last week when we were watching _Wynonna Earp_ , she rubbed my feet for the _whole thing_.”

“And here we are!” the technician said. She twisted the little paddle on Darcy’s belly, and Darcy sucked in a breath, and on the monitor was--

\--a face. Very distinctly, a face. A little button nose and pursed lips and a tiny chin.

“Oh my god,” Tony whispered.

The little fluttery heartbeat was the only sound in the room as the nurse moved the paddle some more. Shoulders, and tiny little arms. One hand balled into a fist, the other spread, showing off itsy bitsy fingers. The nurse reached over and pushed a button; the moving image went still for a moment, and then the printer spat out a tiny photograph, about the size of a polaroid.

“All righty,” the nurse said, “come on…” She shifted the paddle around. “Baby’s hiding from us. Butt’s in the way.”

Bucky leaned against Tony’s shoulder for a moment, trying to hide a snigger against Tony’s shirt.

“Should I, um… move?” Darcy asked. She was frowning at the screen. “Looks like a tiny tyrannosaurus more than a baby.”

“You’d better hope there’s no dinosaur teeth and claws in there,” Tony retorted. “Don’t insult my baby.” He sidestepped Darcy’s attempt to smack him.

The nurse moved the paddle again and the whole image shifted, legs and feet and the thick band of darker coloring that was probably the umbilical cord. “There… there we go,” the nurse said. She leaned in closer to the picture. “Aha!” She pointed at a spot on the image, then Tony could see exactly what the nurse was looking at.

Or, more precisely, what she wasn’t looking at. The legs joined smoothly, no bumps or protrusions.

_A girl...._

“It’s a girl,” Tony said. “We’re gonna have a baby girl.” He twisted to look at Bucky. “It’s a girl.”

Bucky was shaking. Staring at the monitor, and then turned to look at Tony with wondering eyes. He reached up and rubbed a thumb over Tony’s cheek. “You’re crying,” he said, apparently unaware that Tony wasn’t the only person in the room who might have been a little overwhelmed. “She’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

***

Tony checked the tensile strength table -- for homework, he had to use the one in the book, and not the _real_ one in his head, which was just maddening -- and dropped the ratios into the formula. The construct was going to only barely pass muster, but that’s all it had to do, for homework. And that was that assignment done. Tony shook the fog of math out of his forebrain and looked up to make sure the house hadn’t burned down around him as he’d worked.

On the couch, Billie was flipping through the TV channels listlessly, which was very unlike her, though she’d been quiet for the last several days. Tony wondered if she was finally ready to tell him what was bothering her, or if she had to stew for another few days.

“So,” he tried, an opening gambit. “Your birthday party’s next weekend. You excited?”

“I guess,” she said. Flip. Flip. Flip.

“Everyone’s coming, right?” They’d let Billie make her own guestlist, a somewhat eclectic mix of school friends and kids from her soccer camp.

“Yeah.” Flip. Flip. Flip.

“Did you forget to invite someone that we need to add at the last minute?” Tony tried.

Billie shook her head. Flip.

“Buttercup, give me a hint, here. I want to help, but I have to know what the problem is, first.”

Billie slammed the remote down, making the battery compartment door pop off and fly across the room. “It doesn’t matter!” she yelled. “You don’t even care anyway!” Before Tony could respond, she’d stomped out of the room and down the hall to her room, where she slammed the door shut.

Tony stared at the closed door in confusion. He was no stranger to the Barnes’ tendency to hold onto negative feelings until they exploded, but where had she come up with the notion that he didn’t _care_?

That definitely seemed like the sort of thing he should nip in the bud. He put his books away and knocked on her door. “Billie?”

From inside Billie’s room came the sound of muffled sniffles.

“Honey? Can I come in?”

Billie made a noise that Tony chose to interpret as “sure”. He opened the door. She was curled fetal on her bed, arms wrapped around a pillow. Tony sat on the side of the bed and brushed her hair back from her face. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, here?”

Muffin, who’d turned from a tiny little creampuff into an eighteen pound monstercat, disapproved of him from on top of Billie’s dresser. Tony was pretty sure the cat didn’t have any idea what was going on _either_ , but Muffin was a cat, and therefore, disapproving was on the menu.

Billie snuffled into the pillow, then gave Tony a look of utter desolation. He’d seen kids on those Sally Struthers commercials who looked happier and more at peace. “It’s important, right? Family?”

“Of course it is,” he said. He chanced rubbing her upper back.

Billie nodded, like she expected that answer. She gnawed on her lower lip, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She sniffled again. “You think maybe you should… talk with Father about it?” She wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “‘Cause I don’t think he knows.”

“I’m kind of lost here, buttercup,” Tony said. “What am I talking to your father about, exactly?”

“Me,” she said. “Goin’ t’ live with him, all th’ time.”

That hurt, like a knife in the gut. “I... Why?” Tony tipped his head to try to meet her gaze. “Billie, what... why would you want to do that? I thought you liked living with Uncle Bucky and me.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, do it? You…” and then she was crying again, hard, wracking sobs that tore their way out. “You got _your own_ daughter now, you don’t need me! Don’t… Go away!”

Oh, god. Oh, _god_. “Billie,” he breathed. “I’ve _had_ my own daughter for more than a year now. That doesn’t change just because I’m going to have another one. Honey, when I said family was important, I meant you, too. You and Uncle Bucky are my family.”

“S’gonna be diff’rent,” Billie sulked. “She’s gonna be smart, like _you_. An’... an’... an’ I’m _adopted_.” She said that with utter loathing, like being adopted was the worst thing ever, even worse than cantaloupe.

“You are,” Tony conceded, because there was no way around that fact. “You know what it means, that you’re adopted? It means your Uncle Bucky and I knew who you were, we’d met you and got to know you and we told your mom _yes, we’d be proud to take her, if anything happens_. It means we _wanted_ you. _You_ , not some random kid who might get my smarts, or might not, because genetics is a bit of a lottery. She might be just like me, or she might have Darcy’s eyes or hair or feet. I don’t know anything about her, yet. But we know you, and we want you.”

“Mom said I didn’t need a Dad,” Billie offered, hiccuping. “But… but I _wanted_ one.”

“I’m glad,” Tony said. “Because I’m proud to be one of your dads. And I know Uncle Bucky is, too. And I promise, that’s not going to change when the baby comes. I’m going to love both of you.”

“You promise? Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Tony promised, making the required gesture, and then offering her his pinky.

Billie linked his finger with hers, tugging a moment to see if the promise broke.

Then she threw herself into Tony’s arms, almost knocking him over. She was growing like a weed. After a few minutes, she squeezed and then sat back. “Do… um. Would you…” She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for something. “Z’it okay if I call you Dad? Sometimes, maybe, I don’t have to if you… but…” She shrugged and let her voice trail off.

That made his chest ache again, in the opposite way. He pulled her back into a hug. “I’d love it, buttercup. I’d... Yeah, that would make me really happy.”

“Uncle Bucky’s still Uncle Bucky, though,” she said, poking the tips of her fingers together. “‘Cause that’s important, too. ‘Cause we’re _already_ family. But… I picked you. Jus’ like you picked me. Right?”

“Right,” Tony said. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, and smiled brightly for her, and didn’t let it show that he was suddenly panicking over how the hell he was going to explain this all to _Bucky_.

“Okay.” She rubbed at her eyes, then hopped off her bed. “You… I’mma wash my face. An’... an’ then, you wanna watch _Star Wars_ with me, Dad?” It was a little tentative, as if she was testing it out and not entirely sure if it was going to explode or not.

Tony messed up her hair a little, just to make her laugh. “Absolutely. I’ll go make popcorn for us.”

“Yay!”

They were, as a matter of fact, about a third of the way through _Return of the Jedi_ before Bucky came in from work for the night, and Billie was asleep, leaning against Tony’s side.

“Up past her bedtime?” Bucky asked, a soft whisper. “Need an extraction?”

“Nah, I’ll take her in. You can get the TV and the door for me, though.” Tony gathered her up carefully in his arms and stood, and took a moment to smile down at her slack expression. “Let me get her put to bed, and I’ll tell you about the conversation we had earlier.”

Bucky nodded, gathering up the small collection of stuffed toys and dolls, all of whom apparently had to watch the movies with them, too. He flicked the TV off, then noted the tape on the bottom of the remote with a sigh. He put Billie’s toys away with a graceful sort of efficiency while Tony tucked Billie in. At least he’d thought ahead a little and gotten her to get into her pajamas before they started _Jedi._

“Tough day, baby?” Bucky asked as he closed her bedroom door behind them. He nudged Tony toward their bedroom, cutting off the lights as they went.

“Sort of a rough patch for a bit there, yeah,” Tony said. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the bed, stretching out like a starfish to feel the cool sheets under his skin. “I think we got it settled, but it was pretty heavy, emotionally.”

***

“Well, you didn’t miss anything downstairs, ‘cept Wanda spendin’ all night muttering because some assholes came in with confederate flag tees on,” Bucky said, peeling off his shirt. He finished undressing and crawled into bed, laughing lightly as he mock-shoved Tony onto his own side of the bed. “Space hog.”

“You’re the one who keeps accusing me of being a cat,” Tony pointed out, smirking.

“Don’t force me to make you purr, kitten,” Bucky said. He shifted around until he was on his side, head propped up on one hand. “So, what happened with Billie?”

“You know how she’s been working up to something for the last week or so? Yeah, apparently she tripped over the Reality step and landed face-first on _when the baby shows up I won’t be needed anymore_.”

Bucky stared, actively horrified. “Oh, my g-god,” he stammered. “What a terrible idea! She think we’re just, what, gonna put her out on a church doorstep?” He was within an inch of leaping to his feet to make sure their kid was where they’d left her. Jesus, he had fucking nightmares about Billie disappearing, what the actual hell was she thinking?

“To her credit, she at least figured we’d just foist her off on Loki full-time.” Tony snorted. “As if I’d do that to a kid.” He rubbed at his face. “I don’t know who she was talking to, but someone sold her on the idea that being adopted was bad, too. But I think I got her straight. There’s a cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die in there for me, so we’d better hope so, anyway.”

Bucky scoffed. “All she’s gotta do for that is watch TV,” he said. “You ever notice how many evil kids are ‘adopted’?” Truth be told, Bucky hadn’t noticed it until he had his own adopted kid; the same way he hadn’t noticed until he was a parent that cartoon parents of the heroes tended to be dead. Or how many parents were terrible to adopted kids. Bucky was breathing harder and starting to consider the logistics of a total television ban until he could figure out how to limit Billie’s exposure to those bullshit ideas.

“Relax, baby,” Tony said. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up so he could look at Bucky. “She, uh, also decided she wants to try calling me ‘Dad’.”

“Wow,” Bucky said, soft, “that’s like… huge, baby. That’s… that’s just _huge_.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. Utterly touched. He wondered, absently, if Tony had cried. Tony was such a sap, much as he’d deny it if anyone said so.

“Yeah,” Tony admitted. “She said she wants to keep calling you Uncle Bucky, though, because you’re already family and that’s important and... I dunno, it was very _Lilo and Stitch_. I thought I was going to cry for a bit, there.”

Yeah, he _totally_ cried. Bucky wished he’d been there to see it.

Tony was eying him, cautious. Bucky had to admit, there was a faint aftertaste of wistfulness. And he wasn’t jealous; he knew that vicious little spike. Tony deserved it, absolutely. They’d all struggled with adjusting as a family and come through on the other side, pretty much solid, he thought.

“Yeah, I bet it was sweet as hell,” Bucky said. “She gets ya, sometimes, don’t she? Just slips up behind you and whack, right in the head with the feels.” Bucky didn’t want to forget about his sister, either. Becca had her problems, and boy, had she ever taken them out on Bucky sometimes. But… not that he’d object to it, if Billie changed her mind. But being Uncle Bucky was a way to keep Becca in their lives. And Billie was right. That was important, too.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Steve had gone all out with the cake. He and Sam had carefully carried it in from the back of Sarah’s Kia Sorento -- a soccer mom’s vehicle if Tony had ever seen one -- to set it gently in a place of honor at the head of Dockside’s dining room. The restaurant was closed for their private party, although it seemed like more than half the sandbar was there _anyway_.

Loki had, in a surprise move that probably had more to do with his daughter’s begging than any affection for the rest of the Barnes-Stark contingent, taken on the rest of the catering for the event. Of course, he’d promptly dumped it on his staff, but the gesture was appreciated nonetheless. Steve had snarked about it a little, and then decided to make a cake.

And by _cake_ , Steve apparently meant something that could compete on Cake Wars. Tony was staring at a six-layer cake that featured a different scene on each layer. _Stark-Barnes Li’l Monster_ was written on the largest layer -- which wasn’t even the bottom, and how the hell had Steve managed that? The whole thing was an engineering masterpiece. And it was _cake_. The whole thing was crawling with decorative baby monsters with googlie eyes. The top layer was two little monsters who’d apparently _eaten_ part of that cake layer.

“You have really outdone yourself,” Tony told him. “This is... Wow. Even Nat might get enough cake this time.”

Sarah Casper, Sam’s sister and Billie’s best friend Kendra’s mom, came in. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything, Tony.” She was carrying another covered cake-tray in her hands, something smaller. She put it to one side of the monster-cake and unveiled a smaller, two-tiered cake in Billie’s favorite colors, pink and lime green, that read _Big Monster_. That one featured a slightly larger monster on the top, rocking a baby monster in a cradle.

“I didn’t want Billie t’ feel left out,” Steve said, looking weirdly embarrassed.

“An’ our boy gets carried away, sometimes,” Sam said, clapping Steve on the shoulder and making him blush even harder.

“She’s going to love it,” Tony promised.

Wanda came in, carrying a present with her signature hideous wrapping. She dumped it on the gift table with a disdainful sniff. “I cannot believe you are supporting the outdated gender binary system by having a _gender-reveal_ party.” Which hadn’t, apparently stopped her from going overboard on presents, because there were four boxes in her carry-bag, each more ugly than the last.

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s an excuse to eat cake and show off our ultrasound pictures,” he told Wanda. “The kid can be non-binary when they’re old enough to know what that means. In the meantime: cake!”

“Don’t mind her,” Sam said. “She’s pissed off about the thing.” The _thing_ , this time, apparently being a local Confederate monument that was being rebuilt after having been torn down by protesters. She and Sam had been at demonstrations most of the last week, and they’d started to get ugly.

“No, no, no,” Sarah put in, “no politics. Today is a happy occasion. Our little family here is gettin’ bigger. It’s a time to _celebrate_.”

Nat was rearranging the presents on the table into a more pleasing display -- which by no small coincidence, hid most of Wanda’s horrible wrapping paper behind a big box with pink and white polka dots on it -- and managed to mutter “Natasha Stark” in such a way as Tony heard it clear across the room.

“It could still be a boy,” Tony called to her. “We haven’t cut the cake yet!”

“If it’s a boy, you’ll have t’ talk Bucky out of namin’ him James IV,” Sam suggested.

“No, no we won’t,” Steve said. “Bucky hates that name. He dropped his third as soon as Big Jim passed on.”

Tony laughed even as he was filling cups with punch. “He’s still stuck on at least a nickname beginning with B, though. You would not _believe_ some of the weird names he’s thrown up.”

“Well, that won’t matter none,” Sarah said. “I go through roll call every time one of my babies is gettin’ in trouble. Dion, swear, thinks his name is Jo-ken-ion.”

“Well, maybe Tony’s kid won’t be so much trouble,” Steve said. He looked around at the group of friends, all of whom were making some small effort to keep their faces straight before cracking up.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” Tony said. “You’re the ones the kid’s going to come whining to when they’re in trouble.” That was demonstrably true, since Billie already ran to Steve or Sam or Nat when she was in hot water with Tony and Bucky.

Darcy made her appearance, coming down on Bucky’s arm a few minutes after the official start-time for the party. They got in the door and Darcy made a face, some sort of face, before Bucky frantically beckoned Tony over. “C’me on, you’ll miss it,” he said. Darcy grabbed Bucky’s hand and pressed it on her stomach, a few inches to the left of her navel, which -- much to her disgust -- had popped out like a turkey timer about four days ago and was visible even through her maternity shirts.

Tony caught on quick and scrambled over. He glanced at Darcy for permission, and she rolled her eyes at him, so he put his hand next to Bucky’s. Darcy’s stomach felt weirdly firm, like there was a basketball under her skin, and then it... jumped, right against his hand. He yanked his hand away in surprise, then put it back. “I felt it!” Seeing the baby’s squirming on the monitor had been amazing, but for some reason, this weird little bump against his hand -- it felt more like a muscle spasm than anything else -- was what took his breath away.

“Say hi to your daddies, peanut,” Darcy said, her voice taking on a soft, cooing sort of tone. “You know,” she told Tony, “that’s called the quickening, which makes me really wonder about the people who made the _Highlander 2_ movie. Seriously. Like, that’s so, so weird. Kinda grotesque, really, if you think about it.”

“I thought we all agreed that movie was in an alternate timestream and didn’t actually happen,” Bucky said.

Wanda had her camera out, an actual camera and not her cell phone, and was documenting the occasion. Tony made a mental note, hoping she’d caught the moment. It was certainly worth remembering.

“Well, it will not be as sure as if Clint were shooting darts,” Nat was saying, passing out sharpies and directing the guests to a huge board they’d set up. “Everyone put your choice for name on there, and we will let Darcy throw to select what baby Stark will be called, yes?”

“We make no promises,” Tony said, but he gamely took the sharpie. “For those of you who believe in nominative determinism,” he explained, and scrawled _Genghis Einstein_.

Steve’s handwriting was neat, firm, and large. Decided opinions, then. _Winifred Sarah_.

And of course Nat put _Natasha Alianovna_ in sharpie, written in Cyrillic, just to make her point.

And despite his fears, Tony’s mom did not write her own name down -- not that Tony would have given it to their child, there was no way he was giving Maria that much satisfaction -- but instead wrote _Colleen Gianna_. It went on that way for a while, between people giving up ridiculous names -- someone did actually suggest James Buchanan IV -- and Billie, who took more than one turn, adding a new Disney princess with each suggestion. Briar Rose, Elsa, Rupunzel (“I am not letting you name this baby after a lettuce,” Darcy hotly protested). Then, after Kendra hissed something in her ear that sounded like “You ain’t supposed to tell ‘em yet!” Billie reclaimed the marker and added Nemo, Erik, and Adam.

Tony was ready to crack up -- as soon as Billie had gotten over her initial freakout over the potential competition of a sister, she’d told pretty much everyone whose ear she had access to. Tony hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Wanda the party was just an excuse for cake; he figured there were maybe five people in the room who didn’t already know.

Finally, he stepped in to take the marker away from Billie before she could fill every single available inch of the board, and pulled her back so Darcy could throw the dart that Nat was brandishing.

“Adam would be good,” Bucky said in Tony’s ear. “We could use ‘Beast’ as a nickname.” Tony was pretty sure that Bucky was kidding. Not positive, though. Bucky had seemed pretty determined to have some sort of B fronted nickname, at least. Tony thought it was a bit much, really; they already had Bucky, Billie, and Bobbi around most days, and then Billie’s mom, Becca still came up in conversation. Tony had suggested Xena, just for some variety.

Nat took a scrap of paper out of her pocket and stuck it on the end of the dart before handing it over. “So that you will hit what you are aiming at,” she claimed.

Darcy scowled. “That’s cheating. I’m pretty sure that’s cheating. Also, I can’t throw if it’s all point-heavy.” She took the piece of paper off and handed it to Tony. _Natasha_. Of course. Tony balled it up and threw it at Nat with a snort of amusement.

“Oof,” Darcy said, pressing her hand to another spot on her stomach. “Baby’s got _opinions_. Or just wants me to get on with it, so we can have cake.” With that, Darcy tossed the dart.

Billie bounced up and down. “Briar Rose!” she announced, clapping her hands.

Kendra hissed at Billie again, “I thought her name was Ororo, like Ororo Monroe, fr’m school.”

Billie shrugged. “I didn’ know how t’ spell that.”

Tony laughed. “It’s Aurora, like the aurora borealis,” he told the girls, “and we’re not picking the baby’s name from a game of darts anyway. It’s just a game.”

“People have done weirder things,” Darcy said. “I’m named after my mom’s favorite book character, so you know. Not that Mr. Darcy’s not awesome, because he is. And so am I.” She considered that for a moment. “But I don’t think Raistlin would be a very good kid’s name, if we went with that tradition.”

“I’m named after my dad,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“So, also, is Antonio,” Maria said. “There was nothing I could do for that. Howard insisted. I was to have naming of any girls we had together, but alas, Antonio never had siblings. Which is why I am delighted that we shall have two children in this family. It’s _extra_ special, don’t you think?”

“Well, I’m definitely not calling the poor kid Edward,” Tony said. “That’s just, no. That tradition can die with us.”

“Rose is kinda nice,” Bucky said, thoughtfully. He untacked the paper from the wall and rolled it up; they’d save it for the scrapbook, along with dozens of other knick knacks and photographs and official paperwork. Bucky was big on saving memories, and over the last six months or so, had finally gotten over whatever it was that kept him saving photographs, but never _looking_ at them. He’d dug up old negatives and now there were some framed pictures up in the living room of his family.

Tony tucked himself up against Bucky’s side. “Rose is nice,” he agreed. “Just need another name to go with it.” He could already see his mother planning to add rosebushes to her little garden.

Billie nodded, decisively, worming her way in between her dads the way she did, insisting on her space in the group hug. “Rose. It’s good. An’ _I_ named her.”

***

It was the worst sort of deja vu, Bucky thought, later. He shoved out of his office. The assistant manager, Victoria, had been squawking about a problem with the lights in the storage freezer and Tony was in class, so Bucky was going to have to do the job and hope he didn’t electrocute himself.

He was headed down the hall toward the kitchen, toolbox in hand, still half-thinking about the ordering for the annual pig-picking, when he almost ran someone over.

When he’d done it to Tony, several years ago, he’d at least _noticed_ Tony -- watching Tony bend over near the cooler in Harry-Rex’s shop, his thoughts had gone from _oh, nice ass_ to _oh my god hot_ , to _fuck, don’t run him over, idiot_ \-- before seeing that Tony had a black eye.

He had about a half a second to stop before he swung himself -- and the toolbox -- right into Jan Van Dyne.

“Oh! Bucky!” She stepped back quickly, holding up empty hands. “I was just coming to find you or Tony to see if someone can help me with the kids!”

“Sorry,” Bucky said, frowning. “I was jus’ getting ready to--” She’d flinched away from him, her arms coming up oddly, reminding him… he looked closer. The staff hallway was well lit, but certainly not bright enough for her to be wearing sunglasses inside -- and it was rainy outside, so why would she even be wearing them at all? Much less such large, unfashionable ones?

Bucky probably should have thought it through a little more, but a dreadful suspicion jolted right down his spine and he reached out, plucking the glasses right off her face.

“Oh!” she said, grabbing for them, but it was too late -- Bucky had already seen the bruise around her eye, purple spotted with red and fading to green and yellow around the edges, puffy but not swollen enough to be new. She huffed and plucked her glasses back out of Bucky’s hand. “Yes, well, that’s why I missed your party,” she said, resettling them gingerly on her face. “I couldn’t see well enough to drive. I’m _so_ sorry about that -- how was it? I must hear all about it! Come and help me get the babies out of the car and tell me _everything_.”

Bucky sat the toolbox down and kicked it all the way over to the wall so no one would trip over it. “It was great -- Nat’s still sulking that we ain’t gonna name our daughter Natasha, but she’ll get over it.” He followed her out to the car, not quite sure how to bring it up. With Tony, he’d made all the wrong assumptions at first, until Nat set him straight, but Jan? Jan wasn’t getting into bar fights, and thinking back on it, she’d _never_ been clumsy.

Inwardly, he groaned. Fuck. _Fuck_. Jan was babbling on, distracting, pulling a few bags out of her trunk and getting the twins unbuckled. Henry struggled and kicked until she put him down and he did a hand-over-hand thing around the side of the car. Bucky grinned. “Look at him go,” he said. Got his phone out while Jan wasn’t paying attention.

_911 need u hre bby. Ditch. Jan here. Blk eye._

New text from Tony:  
 _Omw. bbies w/ her?_

Bucky scooped Hank up. “Oof, you’re gettin’ bigger every time I see you.” He held up his phone and took a selfie with the baby, who reached for the phone with eager, grabby hands. He sent the selfie to Tony; Jan wouldn’t wonder about that at all, they did that sort of thing all the time. “I think there’s still some cake left, if Nat didn’t raid the fridge. If you want to set up the playpen in my office, I can get you a slice?”

“Oh, I’d love some!” Jan enthused, and if Bucky hadn’t seen the bruise, he’d never have known. “A nice big piece, because these two monsters will want some as soon as they see it.” She didn’t put Hope down, just settled the girl on her hip.

“Bites?” Hope demanded, pulling on Jan’s sleeve.

Jan laughed. “See what I mean?”

“Oh yeah… Billie’s th’ same way,” Bucky said. “She’ll hoover up her cake an’ then watch both Tony an’ me like a little hawk, t’see if we’re not gonna finish. An’ you gotta watch your coffee around here, ‘cause unless you’re Tony an’ drink it black, she’s raiding it. Little caffeine addict, I swear to god.”

Jan swung up her bags with her free hand and followed Bucky back into the restaurant. “I seem to remember that,” she agreed. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on my coffee, since I certainly can’t go without, not with these two running me ragged! They were a lot easier when I didn’t have to _chase_ them everywhere!”

Bucky got her and the twins settled in his office without saying anything about her poor face, which was hard, because oh, god, the whole thing made him fucking sick to his stomach, but he needed backup for this. Got her a huge piece of cake and a whole roll of papertowels, because she’d need them. “Lemme go fix this light b’fore Vic’s got OSHA down here on my ass. Swear, that woman’s got a safety obsession a mile wide.” Which would give Tony some time to get home -- Bucky’s skills as a handyman were legendary in their awfulness.

By the time Tony came in, Bucky was so mad at the malfunctioning light fixture that he would almost prefer to be confronting Jan.

“Hey, babe,” Tony said. He sounded slightly breathless. “Vic said you were back here.”

“Beginnin’ to think Becca was right,” Bucky said, crossly, the screwdriver in his mouth. “Jus’ burn it down, no one’ll miss it.” He sighed, then took the screwdriver out from between his teeth. “Honey --” He climbed down off the stepstool and looked around to make sure no one could hear them. “Someone _hit her_ ; she looks like five times worse than you did. And she’s not even trying to make up an excuse this time. An’ she fuckin’ flinched away from me.” He couldn’t even express how much that had upset him. Tony’d done that too, back in the beginning, and it was painful, terrible, to know that someone had to protect themselves. Had failed to protect themselves. He wanted to find whoever had done that to Jan and punch them a few times, see how they liked it.

Tony took the screwdriver from Bucky’s hand and leaned in to kiss Bucky gently. “Okay,” he said. “I’m going to fix this. And then we’ll all go upstairs and have a snack, and maybe we’ll get Jan to talk to us. Is Victoria working all night? Go make sure she knows we’ve got a family thing happening and we’re not going to be available for anything but emergencies tonight, okay?”

“I’ll give her th’ choice if she wants to work overtime, or I’ll swap out her Thursday. She can pick which thing she wants to bitch about.” Bucky could admit that Vic was good at her job and appreciate it, but Bucky still didn’t _like_ the woman very much. _Note to self_ , he thought, _get Vic a little something extra in her next paycheck_. Movie tickets, or a gift card. That sort of thing often helped employees feel like going the extra mile. God knows, back when Bucky was running a register and stocking shelves at the drug store, he’d have been grateful for that kind of attention. Not, he thought, that he had deserved it. He’d been a shit employee, back in the day.

He handed the screwdriver over to Tony. “I’m gonna not watch you fix that… whatever it is… in like five seconds flat, because my ego is just not up to it.” He kissed Tony’s cheek to take the sting out of it. Even if it kinda _was_ true. And went to track down his assistant manager.

Vic decided to take the overtime, which was good, because it meant he didn’t need to make other arrangements for Billie’s after-school team soccer practice. Ug, life got complicated sometimes. And he knew -- knew -- it was just going to get more complicated when they added a second kid. That tugged his mouth up in a smile, though, because the extra planning was so, totally, going to be worth it.

***

Bucky’s faith in his skills notwithstanding, it took Tony almost twenty minutes to figure out what Bucky had done to the poor light socket before he could actually _fix_ it, so it was close to half an hour before he made it back upstairs to find Bucky and Jan settled on the couch, with the twins playing with some noise-making device on the floor in front of them.

“Jan, darling!” Tony leaned over to hug her. “We weren’t expecting you for another month at least, when you didn’t make it to the reveal.”

“Things just got so busy,” Jan said, practically throwing herself up into Tony’s embrace. “I had an actual show, first time in quite a while, and that took a lot of prep work, and then Hope got an ear infection. Let me tell you, I hope you can skip that, because wow, she screamed a _lot_! Woke us up, just tons and tons until the antibiotics knocked it out. I was getting used to the whole sleeping more than three hours at a time thing, too. So, you know, I just got all… frazzled and forgot which week it was, and then, well.”

“And then you walked into a door?” Tony suggested, one eyebrow raised. He squeezed onto the couch next to her, keeping her hand in his.

For a long moment, Jan didn’t say anything. She licked her lip and her chin wobbled. Tony could see her considering which lie to tell, which words would placate and reassure and then a tear welled in the corner of her good eye. “How did you do it?” she whispered. “Just walked away?”

“Oh, honey,” Tony sighed. He put his arm around her and pulled her into another hug. “It wasn’t that easy, of course it wasn’t. And I didn’t even have kids to think of. We’ll help you, whatever we can do, you have to know that.”

Jan hitched in a shivery breath. “I feel… I feel so _guilty_ , Tony. Like, like, his medication? He’s supposed to take it, to, you know, level him out. But it makes him shake, makes his hands shake and that makes it hard for him to work, and he doesn’t like to take it. Says he feels like he’s living on another planet. So he stops taking it, and then he’s angry all the time and if I ask him if he’s off his medication again, it just makes it _worse_. And I don’t _know_. And the twins bother him. They’re… well, they’re babies. They cry. We… I try to help, Tony, but I don’t _know what to do_.”

She was crying harder and trying to stifle it, a choking, muffled sound against her hand that reminded Tony too much of Howardand _long, dark hallways_ and _a broken red toy car_ and _that instant when Howard had grabbed his arm and lifted him into the air..._

“Jesus,” Bucky said, soft. He got to his feet and brought Jan a tissue. “Hank did this to you? _On purpose_? What the _hell_ is wrong with people?”

Tony shook out of his own memories. He was safe, now, he was away from that. He picked up Jan’s hand and pressed it to his chest so she could feel his heart beating, a little too fast. “Listen to me, darling,” he said. “It’s not your fault. I know it... it feels like if you could just do _enough_ , then it wouldn’t happen, it wouldn’t be a problem, but there is no such thing as _enough_. It will always be something. People can change, if they want to. But they have to _want_ to. They have to go to their therapists and take their meds. They have to tell the doctor, if the meds aren’t right, and not just stop taking them. They have to _know that they’re doing something wrong_. And none of that is on you. None of that is your responsibility.

“All you have to do, Jan, is tell me this: do you want to go home to that? Or do you want to stay here? You’re welcome, as long as you want, and if he can clean up his act, then maybe you can find it in you to forgive it, but I’m not sure I ever will.” He glanced up. “I’m pretty sure Bucky won’t.”

She sniffled into the tissue. “You know,” she said, almost conversational, “I didn’t… I didn’t know about you, not ‘til Bucky said something. And I wondered, after that, if I should have known, if I should have realized. And then… I don’t know. I found myself making excuses for it because it’s just… it’s awful. It’s not what people think it is, it’s not that it hurts, you know. Not this, or the times before this. It’s those weird stillnesses in between. It’s the _waiting_ for the next time, and the time after that, and how long will it be, and can I just keep the kids quiet? Can his phone just not ring, not today? Today’s nice, we can be quiet and happy for one day, right? You don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to think about it. Not because it hurts… here. But because it hurts _here_.” She laid her hand over her heart. “It’s… _humiliating_.”

“It sucks,” Tony agreed. “And the physical pain is the least of it. I know. I remember. But we’re all on your side. We want you to be okay. That’s the most important thing. Come stay with us for a while. Call it a retreat so you can work on your spring line, if you have to, but let him know the ball is in his court now, if you want him to fix it. Or if you want to just walk away, I’ll give you my lawyer’s number. But for yourself. And for the babies. Don’t go back. Not unless he really commits to fixing it, and _proves it_.”

“Papa’s going to be so angry with me,” Jan whimpered. “He told me… oh, he told me not to marry Hank. But he was… it was all stupid, superficial stuff. Hank wasn’t the right sort of person, he wasn’t _quality_ , he wasn’t going to _understand_ , he was just in it for the money. And it’s not like that, it’s not like that _at all_ , Tony, and I--” And then she was crying in earnest, great, tearing sobs that got the twins started a moment later. Bucky scooped up Henry and distracted him with a stuffed toy, while Tony found Hope practically scaling his knee in an effort to get closer to her mom. Tony ended up with two generations on VanDyne crying on him, and Jan’s hiccupy declaration in his ear that she wanted to stay with them and figure this out, because she couldn’t… couldn’t go back right now, what if Hank hurt the babies?

“I’d never forgive myself, if he hurt the twins,” she said, wiping her eyes and wincing around the bruise.

“We won’t let that happen,” Tony promised, which was nonsense, but Jan would know what he meant. He bounced Hope a little, playing peekaboo and trying to jolly her out of her crying. God, he felt ill the more he thought about it. He’d _liked_ Hank, damn it. “You can have the apartment as long as you need it. Or we’ll get you into one of the nicer rentals -- the summer’s over, there should be some vacancies soon. Whatever you want to do. You take all the time you need, and don’t answer any calls from your dad. If he gets too obnoxious, I’ll sic my mom on him.”

“What I want?” Jan said, and she looked up at him, her expression fierce and determined, despite the black eye and the tear-stained face. “What I want is to _never be hit_ again.”

Tony smiled at her. “Good. That’s a good first start. It’s how I got away from Dad, you know.”

“You’re a good friend,” Jan said, leaning against him. “The best. I don’t… I don’t know what I’d have done, if I didn’t know you… that you’d take my side.”

Bucky snorted. “No side t’ take here, honey. Hittin’ people-- there’s only one excuse for that, and he ain’t got it.” Bucky shuddered. Tony knew better than anyone the guilt Bucky dealt with for hitting, even as a last resort, in some of the worst situations. Bucky held a certain, black hatred for people who used their fists on those weaker; it had spilled over on himself a few times. “We’ll make sure you’re safe, best we can.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Scritch. Scritch._

Bucky woke up with a start, heart pounding in his chest. He lay absolutely still in his bed, still lost somewhere in that misty space between waking and dreaming, not sure if he’d actually been dreaming, or if there was something scratching at the door.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten a beastie in the area; Tony had shrieked fit to raise the dead walking out on the porch one night and coming face to face with an angry raccoon. Not to mention the three-hundred pound wild pig that had torn the stairs right off the building.

_Scritch._

A low, plaintive whine, barely audible over the surf.

Not dreaming, then. Bucky allowed himself to roll over, mostly convinced that nothing was going to leap out of the darkness at him and drag him off. Ug. Morbid. He could do without the dreams where his anxiety took some sort of clawed form.

9:17am. It was later than Bucky usually slept, but since Tony had an early class, he’d gotten Billie up and out the door for school. It was probably going to rain buckets, today, since even that late, there wasn’t much light coming in around the curtains.

_Scritch scritch scritch._

Ug. Bucky scrubbed at his face with both hands, trying to gather the motivation to actually get up and chase the possum or whatever it was off the porch before it damaged the paint.

He tightened the cord on his sweatpants and padded out into the living room. Muffin was next to the door, staring at it intently, but not making those little _chu chu chu_ noises like she did when there was something interesting on squirrel tv.

Bucky cracked the door open and was nearly run down by sixty pounds or so of excited mutt.

“Lucky?” Bucky exclaimed before dropping to one knee to hug and pet the dog. Lucky whuffled in his ear and despite Bucky’s best efforts, managed to get in a couple of wet, vaguely tuna-fish scented kisses. “Ug, boy. What have you gotten into?”

The dog was groomed and well-fed, so he hadn’t done anything horrific, like run away from Clint and trek halfway across the country. Probably. No one really knew where Clint had gone. For all Bucky knew, Barney Barton lived in North Carolina and had been sucking off Bobbi the whole time.

Bucky snagged the dog’s collar when Lucky started straining back toward the bedrooms. “Come on, boy, let’s go outside for a bit.” Last time he’d peeked in Billie’s room, it had been a disaster and a half. No point in letting the dog have free rein over it until Billie had a chance to get some of her stuff in their boxes and bins.

He could have sworn the dog gave him a set of mournful eyes -- he’d _been_ outside, that gaze seemed to say.

“We’ll go down to the big kitchen, okay? Get you some bacon and --” He didn’t have to say more than that before Lucky was pawing at the drawer on the entrance way table for his leash. “Good boy.”

He clipped the leash, just in case. Nudged Muffin away from the door. Took the dog down the stairs and noted that someone was already inside. He was coming to love that security system; it meant he didn’t jump right out of his skin when he found Clint sitting at the staff table, drinking a cup of coffee.

“Hey boss,” Clint said, raising one hand.

“You’re in early,” Bucky said, ignoring the part of his brain that wanted to light into Clint, pitchfork in hand. He went ahead and turned the grill on; grabbed a couple rashers of bacon and a half dozen eggs. He could eat breakfast, feed the dog, and have something to do with his hands so he didn’t shake the hell out of Clint.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Wasn’t sure Bobbi’d let me in th’ door. I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, not arguing. There wasn’t any point; any reassurances would be blown right out of the water when Bobbi showed up for work in a little while. “What changed your mind?”

“Kinda forgot what a dick Barney is,” Clint said. He hooked a familiar-looking bag out from under the table with one foot. “Was comin’ long before I found this, but that was just the last straw. Probably shoulda left sooner, but… wasn’t sure I had somewhere to go.”

Well, that hurt. Bucky sighed, then glanced down at the bag. “Wait. what?” He dropped to one knee and rummaged through the bag. “This is my gun bag. Those are _my_ …” He pulled out the pistol that he’d inherited from his father, stowed in its shoulder holster.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Barney didn’t think… well, that you deserved guns this nice.”

Bucky drew back, making a face. What the hell, even? “I mean, they’re nice pieces, sure, but--”

Clint made a disgusted sound. “He doesn’t think your wrist is up to the recoil,” he clarified.

Oh. Bucky swallowed it down; it’s not like he cared about Barney’s opinion, but fuck, he hated it when people judged him for his sexuality. It was stupid, like saying because Nat was a red-head, she couldn’t cook, or had a temper, or whatever. (Nat _did_ have a temper, but not the hot-headed stereotypical sort. But then again, Steve had a temper, too. The whole thing was ridiculous.)

“You gotta know that I don’t agree with that,” Clint protested Bucky’s lack of commentary. “Even if he hadn’t said nothin’ about it, those are your guns, I know that, I wouldn’ta let him keep ‘em.”

“No, I know that,” Bucky said, slowly. He flipped the bacon over. “I called th’ cops, when I found ‘em missing.”

Clint snorted. “I c’n take ‘em back, if you want to point fingers?”

Bucky rolled his tongue around in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was supposed to do about it. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, then, “Bobbi’s on th’ lunch shift for today. So if you’re still playin’ at being single, you’ll want to get th’ hell out of my kitchen before she shows up.”

“Thanks,” Clint said.

“For?”

“Lookin’ out for her while I was gone,” Clint said, spreading his hands.

“Yeah, well, I don’t abandon family,” Bucky said. He didn’t put any particular heat into the words, but Clint flinched anyway.

The security system announced the front door opening, nearly drowned out by Wanda and Bobbi, as they walked in together. Bucky raised an eyebrow and gestured at the back door.

“No, I ain’t leavin’,” Clint said, scowling. “Thanks for th’ offer, though.”

Bucky slipped the bacon onto paper towels and plated eggs. He wasn’t quite cowardly enough to take refuge in his office, but eating gave him an excuse not to talk. It was Clint’s problem, let Clint deal with it.

Bobbi was looking over her shoulder at Wanda as she pushed through the batwing doors into the kitchen. “...after my shift, but if you want to come along, I can--” She stopped dead when she saw Clint, for the space of two heartbeats, and then she was shaking her head. “No.”

Clint’s expression softened for a moment, looking at his wife the way he had in the beginning, all huge eyes and sweet smile, then he sighed. “Hey baby.”

“ _No,_ ” Bobbi said again, more forcefully. “Whatever he sent you for, the answer is no.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Wanda and wordlessly offered her the plate of bacon. They may as well stay; at least keep the bloodshed out of the kitchen, because Steve would absolutely take everyone out back and kill them, if anything happened to his kitchen. (How it was Steve’s kitchen, Bucky had never quite figured out, but he had ceded that space a long time ago and there was no taking it back now.)

Bobbi pushed past Clint to the employee lockers and shoved her purse into hers with rather more force than necessary. “Don’t even try it with the sweet talk,” she said, not looking at him. “Barney’s gotten every damn thing out of me that he’s ever going to get. I’m done with it.”

“I didn’t come back on _Barney’s_ say-so,” Clint protested. “I came back because I want to _come home_. And I kinda forgot that my brother’s a whole bag of dicks sometimes. Softened it up in m’ head that… he wasn’t part of the problem that I left the carnival t’ get away from.”

“You’re at least half a bag of dicks, yourself,” Bobbi snapped. She took her apron down off its hook and tied it around her waist. “You think you can just walk out like that, and then just waltz back in here with some sob story?”

“Oh, stop with the injured party routine, Bobbi,” Clint tossed back. “If you hadn’t fuckin’ lied to me in th’ first place, I wouldn’t’ve had any reason to listen to Barney!”

“I lied because I knew you’d react exactly how you reacted!” Bobbi said. “Thank you so much for proving my point!”

“They’re putting the fun in dysfunctional.” Bucky took another piece of bacon off the plate. He was conveniently ignoring every single one of his and Tony’s ridiculous arguments, and they’d had some doozies over the years.

“You could have at least told me about the miscarriage, Bobbi,” Clint burst. “What the hell, even? Do you think I wouldn’t care? Or… what? What did you think I was going to do? Blame you? Hell, baby, I would have wanted to  _be_ _there_ for you.”

“I didn’t want you there!” Bobbi said, slamming her hand onto the table. “It was bad enough, trying to work out how I felt about it. If I’d had to be holding your hand while _you_ tried to figure it out, too, I would’ve killed someone. I didn’t want a baby. _You_ didn’t want a baby. But I couldn’t work out how I was feeling, and I didn’t want or need anyone else complicating the issue!”

“Totally her right not to tell you about it,” Wanda said. “It’s her body--”

Bucky shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs into Wanda’s mouth. “Not helping.”

Clint stared down at his hands for a long moment. “You didn’t think I could handle it,” he said, flat. “You’ve been… you didn’t think I could handle any of it. You’ve been, what? _Protecting_ me… from the miscarriage, from Barney.” Clint shoved up from the table. “I would be so _fucking_ furious with you, Bobbi Barton, except… fuck. I went and proved you right, didn’ I?”

“Damn right you did,” Bobbi said, but she wasn’t half-yelling anymore, so maybe that was progress. “Could’a turned it around any time, up until you picked him over me and walked out that door. Now, I don’t know. What d’you think you’re gonna say that makes _that_ better?”

Clint grimaced. “Aw, Bobbi, no. I… Bobbi, that’s not what I did. Didn’t pick _Barney_ over you, baby. Picked m’ pride over my heart, that’s… that’s all. Barney just got me muddled up, on what was important.”

“He’s good at that,” Bobbi said. “Which is why I wanted him to stay away from you. He’s too good at making terrible things seem reasonable and reasonable things seem terrible, and you’ve _never_ been able to resist him.”

“Not never,” Clint said, eyes flicking to the bag half under the table. “Won’t… look, it don’t even matter if you don’t take me back, Bobbi, but it’s not gonna happen again. He… Barney took a shit on every part of my life that was important t’ me. Acted like everyone, everyone here, was a great pile of stupid suckers for lookin’ after me, that I’d, I don’t know, pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, made people think I was… worthwhile. _But we know, don’t we, little brother, we know you ain’t shit, you’re just a thief, just a dumb kid._ ”

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed. “What a dick.”

Bobbi huffed out a breath, then slumped into the chair next to Bucky. She took a piece of bacon from the plate and bit into it thoughtfully. “That mean you’re done with him for good?”

“Yeah.” Clint blew a great lungful of air out. “I won’t promise not t’ do anything else stupid, though. I mean, come on, baby, it’s _me_. But that one, yeah, crossing it off the list. There ain’t nothing there for me, ever again.”

Bobbi sighed again. “Why I’m such a sucker for you, I’ll never figure.” She squinted at Clint. “You make up with Bucky, too?”

Bucky pushed himself away from the counter and grabbed his gun bag. “He ain’t made it up to me yet, but oh, he will.” He jiggled the bag, eyebrows up. At least he didn’t have to worry anymore about someone doing something nefarious with his guns, but fuck, that had been anxiety he did not need. Clint was sure as hell going to explain this to _someone_.

“Aw, Bucky, no,” Clint whined.

Bobbi nodded. “Sucker or not, you owe me, Barton. And Bucky. An’ Billie, too.”

Clint managed a credible hang-dog look, like Lucky when he was told there wasn’t any more pizza. “Yeah, I know,” he said. He reached out one hand, like he wasn’t sure Bobbi wouldn’t slap him. “Ain’t you… ain’t you at least a little glad to see me? I missed you like crazy. Every day. Even when I was pissed at you.”

“Dumbass,” Bobbi said. “If I wasn’t at least a little glad to see you, I wouldn’t be so damn pissed about it.” She considered his hand for a moment as if it were some sort of venomous snake, then took it and yanked him down to her for a kiss.

“Ug,” Bucky muttered. “The straight, it kills me.” He turned around to look at Wanda instead. She was, unsurprisingly, already on her phone. Probably had texted Sam, her brother, Steve, and twitter, because Wanda. “All right, when you two are done making out -- and you’d better stop before Steve gets in here -- we’ve got work to do.”

If Bucky didn’t get to make out in the kitchen, he’d be damned if Clint and Bobbi got special dispensation.

***

Tony and Billie came in during the lull just before the early dinner rush. Since Bucky had given Tony a heads-up via text about Clint’s -- and the dog’s -- return, Billie all but flung her backpack at Tony and beelined for Bucky’s office, calling for Lucky.

Tony sighed and adjusted his load to accommodate Billie’s backpack. “I guess homework is going to wait a while.” He looked around the dining room until he found Clint. “Back for good this time?”

Clint ducked his chin, throat turning red with embarrassment. “Back with Bobbi, leastways,” he said. “And ain’t gonna try an’ work things out with Barney. There’s just some people, y’know, you have to cut out of your life. Think I was better off without him. He’s blood, but that don’t make him _family_.”

Tony nodded. “Glad to hear it.” He clapped Clint on the back, almost dropped Billie’s backpack, and sighed. “Right, I’d better get this to the office and make sure she’s not squeezing the life out of the dog.”

He left Clint to the dishes. “Okay, I know you’re excited,” he told Billie, “but you do still have to do your homework.” He dropped the pack by her feet, then leaned over the desk to kiss Bucky. “Hey, babe. Exciting day, huh?”

Lucky promptly stuck his nose into Billie’s backpack, for a moment giving life to the possibility of ‘the dog ate my homework’ excuse before Bucky nudged the dog with one foot. “Down, boy,” he said. “Oh, yeah, lemme tell ya, playing referee to the Barton’s domestic disputes? Well above my paygrade. An’ I need t’ get this proposal done up before the end of the week.” He tipped the computer screen to show Tony the outline for a kiosk food station at one of the local colleges.  

“Oh, wow, you’re really doing it!” Tony was excited; they’d been talking about this possibility for a while. “What did you decide on for the simplified menu?” He sat on the edge of Bucky’s desk and leaned around to look at the screen.

After being interrupted by the dog (or the kid) about five times, and then having to talk over the kid (or the dog) another half dozen times, Bucky sent Billie out to walk the dog, take him upstairs, and get her homework done. Billie was less sulky about the homework orders than normal, given that Lucky was all but glued to her side and could probably only be tempted away by bacon. “I need Dad t’ help with my math,” she said. “It’s _fractions_.” She spoke that word like it might be toxic.

“Okay, I’ll help,” Tony agreed. “After you try for yourself first.” He raised his eyebrows at Billie; she would have Tony or Bucky just do all her homework for her if she could get away with it. He gave Bucky another kiss. “I’ll see you upstairs later,” he promised. “Text if you get into the weeds and need an extra hand.”

Bucky’s hand slipped around the back of Tony’s neck and kept him in place for a few minutes longer, while he made a thorough investigation of Tony’s mouth (much to Billie’s loud, exasperated groans and fleeing from the office). “We should be okay. Get _your_ homework done, too.”

Tony stayed close even after Bucky let go, letting his breath ghost across Bucky’s skin. “Yeah? Do I get a reward, if I get it all done?”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows. “That could be arranged. Little bit of _incentive_.”

“Mm, I can work with that.” Tony grinned. “I’ll see you after work then.” He left the office, making sure to wiggle his ass for Bucky to watch. Speaking of incentive.

Fractions were apparently the _hardest thing ever_ , until Tony had the bright idea of demonstrating with a Hershey bar that he broke into its segments... and then promised Billie she could have them _after_ she got the worksheet completed.

His own homework was mostly just tedious, though the hour he spent playing with AutoCAD on his computer for his final project was kind of fun. But then he was back to computing material strength by hand, and that was just dumb, because someone else had already _done_ this work for any of the materials Tony wanted to use. Ug.

He was about halfway through the table when his phone buzzed, then started playing his ringtone. Who… like, who the hell actually called and made an actual phone call these days? Didn’t people know better? He pulled his phone out and glanced at it. Darcy’s picture, the one with her peace-sign fingers near her mouth in a stereotypical selfie pose, flashed.

His heart started pounding, because he could only think of one reason that Darcy would call instead of texting. He fumbled to answer. “Hello?”

“Uuuuuh,” a hesitant male voice said. That was _not_ Darcy. In the background, he heard someone talking, and another person, woman, whimpering. “Is this Tony Stark?”

“Who is this? Where’s Darcy?”

“On the floor,” the guy said. “She said to call you. Boyfriend, yeah? She’s… well, her water broke an’ she’s kinda panicking here.”

“Shit,” Tony said, heart pounding just a little harder. “Where-- Put her on the phone, okay? I’ll talk to her, see if I can calm her down a little.” He listened as the phone was passed around on the other end. “Darce? You there?”

Darcy sniffled. “Tony?” Her voice was quavering. “I… uh… I didn’t think it’d be _so wet_.”

Tony wasn’t sure he wanted that detail, but if she had to live it, he could probably shut up about hearing it. “Listen, Darce, it’s going to be okay. Where are you?”

“I… the 7-Eleven, you know the one, just down from my suite? I wanted a chili dog, and… oh, Tony, I’m not supposed to be laboring until _next week_. What if something’s wrong?” Her voice spiraled up and ended in a ragged sob.

“Hey, c’mon, you’re the professional here,” Tony said. “Remember, they told us that thirty-seven weeks was full-term; there’s nothing wrong with the baby. She just wants _out_. Hang tight, I’ll grab the go bag and come get you. Okay?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m… ug. I’m _wet_ ,” she said. Like she hadn’t already told him that, but Tony guessed some panic was to be expected. “Is it okay, if I eat? I’m still _hungry_.”

“Jan said you should definitely eat before you go to the hospital because they will _not_ let you eat once we get there,” Tony remembered. “I’ll put a couple of towels in the car for you, too. Eat your chili dog; I’m going to give Bucky an update and then I’ll be on my way.” The doctor, Tony thought, suddenly weirdly calm. He should call the doctor, too.

Another few reassurances, and he hung up the phone and flipped over to text messages. _Chng plan 2nite. Darcy n labr. Takng her to hosptl._

New text from Bucky:  
 _Yiiiiiikes! Ill gt clsd up, bbsitter. Call me whn sttld. <3 u. &darce._

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeny content warning for perfectly normal labor-and-delivery stuff; if that kind of thing squicks you out, go on and skim past the second section to the end.

Never rains but it pours, Bucky reflected. It took him almost two hours to get Dockside switched over. Vic hadn’t been available to take over for the night, and there was an early-drunk incident just before Bucky was getting ready to go. Which meant he was now stuck in evening traffic. Rather than deal with the bullshit that was St. Marks -- the closest and more convenient hospital, but also the most homophobic and aggravating -- they’d gotten Darcy set up with a doctor at the somewhat further Riverside. Which had a tunnel between them and him.

Fortunately, according to Tony’s texts, the accident hadn’t happened before they got through, but it did mean that Bucky was at least another hour later than he’d expected to be, and out of phone contact for most of that time, since cell reception wasn’t exactly good under the Bay and a ton of concrete and steel.

He got through the tunnel and his phone lit up with texts. A quick glance at the screen revealed most of them were of the _where are you_ variety. He scowled, looked back at the interstate. He’d never understand how the tunnel could be a dead stop and then suddenly the traffic vanished just on the other side of the bridge. Like, how did that even work? Were aliens snatching up the spare cars or something?

He dropped his phone on the dash. “Call Tony.” He didn’t want to stop to read texts and getting into a car accident on the way to the hospital might be a little too ridiculous, even for him.

“Bucky,” Tony answered the phone. “Where are you?”

“We live on Southside, baby,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth as tail lights flashed again, “where else would I be? Like Wanda always says… you're not _in_ traffic…”

“... you _are_ traffic,” Tony finished and they both gave a little bark of laughter because that was so true and if they didn't laugh, crying was inevitable.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “tell her not to have the baby without me.”

In the brief pause that followed, less than twenty seconds in real time but eight years by the heart's clock, Bucky had time to fear any number of things. That Darcy had already had the baby. Or that there were complications. Or Darcy had decide to keep the baby.

Bucky had always made faces about people on TV having babies and panicking about it.

He died in those seconds before Darcy came on the line. “This is the boring part, Bucky. Now get your ass up here before I exercise my motherly rights and name this kid Internship. Which is what I should have had.” She handed the phone back to Tony just before making an unearthly sound. Sort of like a cross between a bear and Nat when she found out a customer stiffed her on the tip.

“Better you than me, baby,” he sing-songed. “because she's gonna remember soon that this is _your_ fault.”

“The miracle of childbirth,” Tony said, with a slightly sarcastic lilt to his voice. “Get here as soon as you can so you can share in it with us. So far it’s involved a lot of sitting around, a very uncomfortable monitoring belt that gives us a constant background noise of our baby’s heartbeat, and a nurse that I suspect is going to be physically assaulted if she smacks her gum in Darcy’s ear one more time.”

“You need me to stop by an ATM and get bail money, honey?” God, traffic was a bitch, seriously, where the fuck did people learn to drive? Pre-school? “I got the exit coming up in… ten miles. If it gets bad, I’ll park it and run.” Well, probably not. He hadn’t done any long distance jogging since senior year of high school, although he was still faster than Steve, a fact that he liked to point out from time to time, just to be a dick. Because Steve.

“We might need money for the vending machine if we’re here long,” Tony said, “but that’ll wait until morning, probably. Drive safe, love you, see you soon.”

Bucky took a few minutes to compose himself once he got to the parking lot. Fuck, he wanted a smoke, but he’d told himself he was going to quit, that his and Tony’s baby wasn’t going to grow up smelling like second-hand smoke, and he meant to stick to that. Even if he hadn’t told anyone, just so he wouldn’t have to explain himself if he backslid. Deep breaths. And… okay. This was happening. It actually was. He was fine. He was _fine_.

Which was good, because by the time he made it up to Darcy’s L&D room, Tony was _not_.

He was pacing around the room, a whole series of worry-lines wrinkling his forehead, and though he stopped to greet Bucky warmly, he went back to pacing in only a few minutes, muttering under his breath. “I won’t, I can’t, I have to...”

Darcy made an elaborate set of eye-rollings. “I think it’s contagious. I had it first, now he’s got it.” She looked down at her stomach in disgust. “Oh, stop squirming around and just leave already.”

Bucky kissed Darcy’s forehead. “He’s got what, exactly?” She held out her hand expectantly, and Bucky dropped his into hers. Her fingers curled around his wrist.

“I’m supposed to squeeze someone’s hand, I’m told. All the terrible movies suggest it, but it’s really not that bad, yet. Sort of like…” she lowered her voice and glared around the room, like someone was going to scold her. “... like I have to poop, really, really badly.”

“Squeeze all you want,” Bucky told her. “What’s up with Tony?”

“He caught my panic. I’m fine now. Doctors, nurses, hospital. Annoying machine that goes beep once in a while. I love that one. I dunno, he said something about Howard and he’s been walking around like that ever since.”

_Oh_.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, go talk to him. I’ll… just lay here and do all the work, that’s fine.”

Wasn’t exactly like he could swap out for her, even if he _wanted_ to. Which he decidedly did not. Thanks. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I got this. I got this handled.”

Bucky squeezed her fingers again. “You yell, if you need someone.”

“Believe me, you’ll hear me.”

Bucky chuckled. Then. “Hey, Tony. Let’s go get a coffee, huh? It’s probably gonna be a long, long night. For everyone.”

Darcy flipped him off. “You bring me one the instant they get this baby out of me! You hear that, Barnes! I haven’t had caffeine in _months_.”

Tony hesitated, looking at Darcy, obviously loathe to leave her alone, but she made a shooing gesture at him. “Get out,” she told him. “You’re making me crazy. Go have a coffee and let your boy talk some sense into you before it’s _his_ turn to catch the panic.”

Tony laughed a little at that, but obediently left the room and let Bucky lead him toward the little waiting area. “I’m not panicking,” he said.

Bucky rubbed the end of his nose with his knuckle. “Yeah, you are,” he said. “Sit. Relax. Breathe. I’ll be right back with coffee.” He’d seen a little vendateria around… oh, there it was. He remembered it from the hospital tour. Grabbed two cups of coffee for a ridiculous price considering what shitty coffee it actually was. Sugared and creamered the crap out of his; Tony could drink greasy motor oil and not even notice, but Bucky’s palate was a little more refined. (Tony would totally laugh at him if he said that aloud, though. He reminded himself to mention it, if Tony got all clammed up.)

“Here.” He handed the cup to Tony. “What’s on your mind, babydoll?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Tony said, staring into his cup of not-quite-motor-oil. “What if I make a terrible parent?” He grimaced. “What if I’m like _Dad_?”

“You’ve been a great dad to Billie,” Bucky suggested, knowing it probably wasn’t going to help. He stretched out in one of the chairs and took a slurp of truly horrific robusta coffee. Ug. Wanda had spoiled him for shitty coffee. He reminded himself to thank her for it, later. “She was kinda put out that I wouldn’t let her skip school tomorrow to come see her new sister.”

Tony smiled fondly. “Of course she was. Anything to get out of school.” He shook his head. “But Billie’s... I love her, but she’s a Barnes. How am I going to react if this one--” He waved in the vague direction of Darcy’s room. “--decides she hates school? Or turns out not to be, you know, _smart_? Dad and I fought a lot about my chosen major, but I don’t even want to think about what he’d’ve been like if I hadn’t wanted to go to school at all.”

“I only went to two-year,” Bucky said. “And that was for business. Kiddie math an’ time cards an’ business law. Bullshit degree.” He gave Tony a little bit of side eye, because they’d never really talked about it. Tony was pursuing a high level engineering degree. The school had let him skip a bunch of stuff and test out of other stuff, and Tony was really, really smart. Darcy, too. She’d come with a fucking pedigree like a brood mare, for fuck’s sake. “You love me less?”

“Of course not.” Tony looked a little hurt, and a little annoyed. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re saying, but it’s... I don’t _know_ if it’s different,” he complained. “What if it is?” He rubbed at his face. “What if I treat her different from how I treat Billie? That’s not fair to either of them, is it?”

“No, it ain’t.” He was positive of that, because his parents had… well, they’d certainly treated him and Becca differently. Not like Becca had seen it, the disappointment and the _baby_ , as she’d phrased it once. But different. “But you know, your dad, he used t’ smack you around--” that was putting it mildly, and Bucky knew he didn’t even know half of how bad it had been “-- and then there was Ty. But you don’t do that with me. You make that choice, not to carry on a bad thing. You’ll make mistakes, baby. But they’ll be new, different, exciting mistakes, right?” He put a hand on Tony’s knee and shook it a little.

“Oh, god,” Tony groaned. He put his free hand over his face. “I’m going to fuck up _so hard_...” He made a noise kind of like a whimper that had sprung a leak. “You have to promise to tell me if I’m fucking up, honey. I can’t do this without you.”

“ _Oh, my god_ ,” Bucky groaned. “You are not going to fuck up, Tony. You’re going to be a great dad, if for no other reason than because you’re sitting here worrying about it. I’m not going t’ have to watch over you like I’m the fuckin’ adult around here, because we both know that I ain’t. You’re gonna be great, you’re gonna watch _Star Wars_ with her, an’ you’re gonna go crazy overboard for Christmas, an’ you’re gonna drag the kid to ComiCon for her birthday, an’ sit in the front fuckin’ row at the school play and listen to a terrible rendition of _This Little Light of Mine_.”

Tony dragged in a shuddering breath. “Probably,” he admitted. He leaned into Bucky’s side and dropped his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re going to be great, too, you know. You’re the best at bathtime, or you were until Billie decided she was too big for help washing her hair. And you’ll teach her how to swim and surf, and how to make your Ma’s crab salad, and how to ride a bike. And don’t even pretend you won’t be right there next to me watching terrible school plays.”

“You know that’s the most important thing,” Bucky said. “Ma was always there. Even as busy as she was, she was always _right there_ , when I needed her. And you’re gonna be there. And I’m gonna be there. Won’t always be fun, won’t always be easy. But we’re gonna do this thing, aren’t we? Together.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. “Yeah, that’s... That’s right. You’re right.” He straightened and gulped down half of his terrible coffee. “Still a little bit terrified,” he said.

“That’s probably normal,” Bucky said. Not that Bucky knew what normal was; he hadn’t been within spitting distance of normal in his entire life. But he was a little terrified, too. His worries were different. Less… spiritually damaging, probably. Tony… well, Tony had had a shitty childhood. “It’ll be good. She’ll have good memories, we’ll make sure of it. Promise.” And, half a smile tipping up his mouth, he offered Tony an extended pinkie. “Pinkie promise, even.”

“Oh my god, you are such a _dork_ ,” Tony mock-complained, even as he caught Bucky’s pinkie in his own. “Dorkitude, off the charts.”

“Aaaand you love me, so I don’t know what that says about you,” Bucky said. He leaned over, kissed Tony’s cheek. “All better, baby?”

“For now, anyway,” Tony said. “I make no promises about the future. But I think I can go back into the room without driving Darcy to kill me, now.”

***

Tony was exhausted. They’d been at the hospital for the whole night. It was now the early hours of morning, and none of them had so much as been able to nap. Not that Tony was going to complain, because obviously Darcy had it worse. She had been growing steadily more and more uncomfortable as the labor progressed, and more and more annoyed at the way the nurses hovered and fluttered as they checked the baby’s heartrate and various other arcane things.

But she’d finally entered what the nurse had called “active labor”. Tony wanted to know why it was any more active than what they’d been doing for the last twelve hours, but apparently it meant they were into the final phase of things, thank god.

Tony occupied himself with focusing on Darcy from the shoulders up, and with worrying about having his hand broken, because seriously, the woman had a hell of a grip. “That’s it, that’s perfect,” he said. He had no idea if she was doing the right thing at all, but that seemed unhelpful to admit.

“There really has got to be a better way to do this,” Darcy ground out between clenched teeth. “Mix it up in the blender and raise the babies in tubes, oh, my fucking Christ that--”

“You’re crowning.” The doctor looked up from where he was perched on a rolling stool between Darcy’s thighs. Which seemed an awkward place to be, and Tony was just as happy to be nowhere near it. They’d gotten through the whole thing with Darcy’s dignity and modesty mostly intact, and he didn’t want to spoil it _now_. “Almost over.”

“That’s it, this is it, Darce,” he told her. “So close now! Just a little bit more!” He watched until her face squeezed up in pain and then reminded her, “Push, one long hard one! Like taking a big dump!”

“Wait, wait, hold up, stop pushing for a second--” The doctor scowled and held out his hand to the nurse, who put an incomprehensible surgical tool of some sort in it.

“You are _fucking kidding me_?!” Darcy’s shriek could probably be heard in the next county over.

“Just for a second,” the doctor said, sounding distracted. “The umbilical cord is wrapped around her neck, we can’t have that. Just let me...” He did something, and Darcy made the most disgusted face ever.

“Oh, god, I can feel it _sliding_ ,” she complained. Tony concentrated on not puking.

“...oh god…” Bucky muttered, looking down where the doctor appeared to be elbow deep in Darcy’s girl bits.

“Okay, okay, _there_. Got it,” the doctor said. “Carry on. You’re doing really well.”

“Hear that?” Tony repeated, feeling slightly like a dumbass but not having anything else to contribute. “Almost there...”

“I am going to blame you,” she said, squeezing Tony’s hand again, and he’d really thought his fingers would be numb by now. “And then I am going to kill you--” that was directed at Bucky “--if someone doesn’t get this baby out of me _right now_!”

“Ah, death threats,” Bucky said, smiling. What the hell was he _smiling_ about? “Wouldn’t be a birth without them.”

“God, I hate you,” Darcy snarked and then made a horrible sound, and then… “Oh. Oh… oh, wow, that’s weird.”

“Here we go,” the doctor said, handing a squallie mass of red person to the nurse. “Clip the umbilical, and one more push, get all that placenta out of there. Oh, good job.”

The nurse, and then a few other nurses -- where had they all come from? The labor room was suddenly full of people -- were very busy on the other side of the room with a tiny little person. Who opened her mouth and suddenly made a very _not_ tiny little noise.

There was no reason for Tony’s hands to be shaking _now_. None at all.

They didn’t stop.

He didn’t let go of Darcy’s hand, but he couldn’t stop watching the nurses, because occasionally the wall of scrubs parted and he got a glimpse of the baby. His baby. _His daughter_. Oh, god. She was screaming bloody murder; what the hell were they _doing_ to her over there? The doctor was doing something arcane with Darcy’s lady bits that Tony probably didn’t want to know about, and another nurse was hovering, waiting to do... something else. Seriously, where had they all come from?

“You did it, Darce,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, sleepily. “Yeah, I get allllll the gold stars. And a vodka martini. And pizza. Because I am _starving_. But right now, I really, really want a shower. And a nap. Nap… first, maybe?”

“Nap all you want,” Tony agreed. “You have earned all the naps. Coffee and pizza for breakfast when you wake up. Promise.”

One of the nurses tugged on Tony’s sleeve. “Hey, Dad,” she said. And held out a tiny little bundle, tinier than Jan’s twins had been the first time he’d seen them. Like, the size of a loaf of bread. Wrapped up in a white blanket with a blue stripe on one side. Even across the room, over all the noise the nurses were making, Tony heard Bucky suck air, just a little sharply, and looked up to see him working on controlling his expression.

Tony gave him an encouraging smile, though it might have been a little shakier than he intended, and cradled the baby loaf close. God, he was glad Jan had bullied him into holding her kids, or he’d be too terrified to hold her now. She was so _little_ , so _fragile_ looking. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m your Dad.”

The baby didn’t really respond, but Tony didn’t care. She was tiny and she was _perfect_ , from her still-red face to the tiny fuzz of dark hair at the top of her head. “Bucky,” he said. “Bucky, look at her.”

Bucky was there, Tony hadn’t even seen him move, too lost in the wonder that was a new person in his arms. One hand pressed against the small of Tony’s back, the other over Tony’s hand where he supported the baby’s back. “Well, wouldja look at that?”

“We’re Dads,” Tony told him. “You know. Again.” He smiled up at Bucky, just for a second, not wanting to take his eyes off his daughter for long.

One of the nurses came over with an index card in her hand. “Do we have a name to put on the bassinet card?” she asked. It was already filled out with the other information -- length, weight, sex.

Tony looked at his daughter and took a breath. “Olivia Rose.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky had pulled a few all nighters in college, both to study and to party. He’d had a myriad of nights of restless sleep for illnesses and death vigils. He thought he knew about sleepless nights. He was Jon Snow: he knew _nothing_.

He’d woken up precisely thirty minutes after his head hit the pillow with Olivia crying in the next room.

The worst part about Olivia crying was that she was all of three weeks old, and despite what they’d been prepared for, she rarely howled fit to raise the dead. She did these pathetic little puling _hu-wah hu-wah_ noises. Almost, but not quite, quiet enough to sleep through.

For him.

He glared at Tony, still sound asleep. Then at the clock.

Considered nudging Tony anyway, but it really was almost pointless. It wasn’t that Tony wouldn’t get up and do the work. Bucky knew that Tony would -- although he would yawn loudly, stretch, and mutter to himself -- without complaining about it too much. (Honestly, he probably complained less than Bucky.)

Except that Bucky couldn’t sleep after Tony got up anyway. He’d be listening to the whole time as Tony fed, changed, rocked, talked to, and otherwise went through the whole parental rigamarole.

And then Tony would go back to sleep.

And Bucky would _still_ be awake.

_Hu-wah, hu-wah!_

Bucky took a breath and peeled his ass out of bed.

His eyes were scratchy. Opening them hurt. Blinking hurt. He knew for a fact that if he kept his eyes closed, he’d trip over the cat, or a toy, or the edge of the rocker. How was life this unfair?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” he told the air.

Olivia paused for a long moment, mid cry, as if she was deciding whether or not she believed him.

She started crying louder. Of course.

Bucky reached into the cradle and picked her up. “How is it that such a small person has such a huge amount of tragedy in their life already?” Rhetorical question. “So, are we wet, hungry, or just bored?”

A muffled sound drew Bucky’s attention to the doorway, where Tony was leaning, boxers slung low across his hips, eyes mostly closed, still in the act of pulling on his tee. “Need a hand?” It came out muffled and mumbled: _nee’ahan’?_

Bucky gave Olivia’s tiny butt a squeeze; yeah, that was a wet one. Three weeks ago, Bucky would have apologized for waking Tony up. Now, he just said, “Prep a bottle? Might as well see if she’s hungry, while we’re both up.” Changing table, yay. He got out a clean diaper and flipped the top up on the wipe warmer.

They really had gotten a ridiculous amount of _stuff_ at the baby shower, including crap that Bucky would have never thought about in a million years. The bottle cage for the dishwasher, for instance, that kept all the bottles upside down and the nipples from ending up in the drain guard.

“Mm,” Tony agreed, and shuffled off toward the kitchen. He came back around the time Bucky had finished getting Olivia’s PJs back onto her wriggly little limbs, carrying a tiny bottle with a baby-sized snack of formula. His eyes were sort of open. “Wan’ me to take her, an’ you can go back to bed?”

“You’ve got a quiz tomorrow, don’t you?” Bucky reminded him, gently. “I jus’ got work. I c’n probably do that mostly sleepwalkin’ if I have to. Thanks, babe.” He landed a kiss in the relative vicinity of Tony’s cheek _without_ slamming their foreheads together, which he’d done once recently, from lack of sleep and the coordination issues that went along with it. Plucked the bottle out of Tony’s hand and wandered off toward the living room. If she started wailing away again, Bucky wanted to be as far from the bedrooms as possible. So far, Billie had only woken up once to complain about the baby crying; he’d like to keep it that way.

“C’n probably take that quiz in my sleep,” Tony protested, but he didn’t hesitate long before turning back toward their bedroom. He knew as well as Bucky did that Bucky wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. No sense in both of them being off their game. “Love you,” he called.

Rocking chair. Little cradle-pillow-thing (He refused to call it a _boppy_. That was a stupid name for a thing. There were ridiculous amounts of y’s and ie’s in his life these days. Blankies, binkies, boppies. Like, what the hell even? What happened to _English_?)

Absentmindedly, Bucky started complaining about it in Russian. Now there was a language with some teeth to it.

He tested the bottle against his wrist and then offered it to Olivia. She took two half-hearted sucks and then proceeded to whimper around the nipple, letting formula dribble down her chin,

“No? Not hungry?”

Bucky shifted his grip on the baby, cradling her against his shoulder. She probably didn’t need to be burped; her last meal was almost three hours ago and if she was gassy, she’d have let them know a lot earlier.

She stopped crying once she was upright. Huh.

He rocked with her for a while and she was almost asleep, making little contented baby noises in his ear. But as soon as he moved her to so that he could stand up, she started whining again.

Bucky repeated the experiment a few times just to check.

Upright, good.

Laying down, bad.

 _Fuck_.

He kept the baby against his shoulder and went looking for the little forehead rolling thermometer. It was in the hall bathroom. He switched on the light, checked Olivia’s temperature.

Yep.

Keeping Olivia upright on his shoulder, Bucky shuffled into the bedroom. “Hey, babe,” he said, quiet. A shiver passed through the baby and directly into Bucky’s chest. “Tony?”

Tony was already mostly asleep again; he frowned, his forehead and nose scrunching, and then blinked one eye open. “Mm?”

“Liv’s running a fever,” he reported. “I think she might have an ear infection.”

Tony groaned and pushed himself up to sitting. “Of course, in the middle of the night.” He eyed the baby against Bucky’s shoulder. “Do we need to take her to the ER?”

“Uuuuuh,” Bucky waffled, trying to remember. He’d read a couple of chapters in the books that Jan gave them, although honestly, it all seemed very contradictory. The only thing he _clearly_ remembered was no Tylenol before six months. “What did Jan tell us? Oh, right. We can try giving her a cool bath and see if that helps. She’s kinda whiney if she’s not vertical, though. That’s the ear thing, right?”

Tony needed to kick his brain into gear, because he was the one with the memory-thing, and--

 _She’s your daughter, too,_ Bucky told himself. He should have been better at this; after all, he’d mostly looked after Steve for most of his life. But… Olivia seemed so tiny, more fragile and ethereal than Steve _ever_ had.

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Tony agreed. He shoved his hand through his hair, making it all stand on end. “How high is her temp?”

“One oh one point zero. It’s like, little more than half a degree over the normal, right?” He was pretty sure that was correct. It was one hundred point four, right? Panic swirled. He was so, so bad at this, he couldn’t remember, there were too many things to remember. His breathing sped up a little bit.

“Yeah, we’re still in low grade territory, for babies, so unless it goes up some more, we can probably wait for morning to call the doc.” Tony cocked his head at Bucky. “Unless you really want to take her in now?”

Bucky took a deep breath; scrambling for… he didn’t even know what. Decisiveness? Did real parents actually ever know what to do? It wasn’t that Billie hadn’t gotten a cold before, but usually she just took some liquid advil and sulked on the sofa for a day or so. Billie was more prone to injury than illness. (About a month ago, she’d sprained her wrist after trying to climb off the back of the garage apartment playing Sherpa.)  

Bucky took another breath, and then… “Let’s see if giving her a cool bath helps, and we’ll decide from there?”

“Sure thing,” Tony agreed. “You want me to do it? Or am I just moral support?”

“I wouldn’t mind some help,” Bucky pointed out. “You can either hold her while I fill up th’ bin, or I can hold her, an’ you can draw the bath. But she starts whimpering when I go to put her down.” Bucky was a little bit frantic. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up in charge. By dint of holding the baby, he guessed. He sighed.

Tony shot him a look, then nodded. “Okay, here, give her to me. You go run the bath and I’ll bring her in after I get her towel.”

He got the tub set up in the kitchen sink. Kneeling over the hall bath was annoying and also tended to end up with him squashing one of Billie’s eighteen million bath toys. (He felt an unexpected spurt of sympathy for his sister, who’d once thrown a whole handful of G.I. Joes at him when he’d left them in the shower.)

It wasn’t that bad, he told himself. The fever was low, Tony had said so, right? He checked the water, changed the angle of the faucet to cool it a little more. He had an itch to find one of Jan’s books and double check. He wasn’t a doctor. Hell, he’d barely gotten through a crappy two year degree. Who was he trying to fool that he could be a responsible parent?

“It’ll be okay,” he told himself, checking the bath water again with an elbow. Okay. Cool. Great.

Tony came into the kitchen with Olivia propped against one shoulder and a baby towel thrown over the other. He looked a little more awake, at least. “Hey, who’s excited to have a bath?” he cooed, unsnapping her onesie with his free hand. “Here, babe, help me get this off her so I don’t have to lay her down. You weren’t kidding about her not liking to lie down. It’s like that creepy dollbaby that Jan had when we were kids.”

“Becca had one,” Bucky said. “She didn’t play with it by the time I was old enough to notice it, but she had it in her room until she was bringin’ boys up there.” He helped Tony get Olivia into the tub, holding her so she could recline a bit, since she wasn’t sit-able at all. “It drank an’ wet, too. Stevie an’ I were messin’ with it one time, an’ Steve said water was boring. So we mixed up sunblock with water and fed that to th’ doll, cause it looked like milk.” He rolled his tongue around in his mouth a bit. “Becca was… not pleased that her babydoll essentially looked like it had jus’ had a gangbang, with thick white goop coming out of it.” He snickered, remembering. God, it was a wonder Becca hadn’t _killed_ him, growing up.

Tony cracked up, then clapped a hand over his mouth to avoid waking Billie. “Oh my god,” he rasped. “You were _terrible_ brothers.”

“Yeah, Becca thought so, too,” Bucky admitted. Olivia blinked at him a few times from the bath, then yawned, her tiny mouth a little oval.

He checked, but really, his hand was wet, she was wet, there was no way he could tell if it was helping or not. “Did… am I rememberin’ this right? Jan said the twins used t’ sleep in their car seats when they had ear infections? Give that a try, an’ we can call the doctor first thing tomorrow?” All the parenting books had said that he should trust his instincts. But Bucky wasn’t sure he had any. He loved Olivia, adored her, but maybe it was a hormonal thing, because he didn’t feel any more certain than he had before she’d arrived that he had any idea what he was doing.

Well, aside from the changing diapers thing. He’d gotten that down real quick.

“That sounds familiar,” Tony agreed. “You keep an eye on her, and I’ll go set it up in her crib.”

They got Olivia into the car seat and she hiccuped once -- Bucky was never, ever going to get over how adorable that was -- and closed her eyes.

“Huh,” Bucky said. He twined his fingers through Tony’s and they slipped out of the bedroom. “That…” _wasn’t so bad._ He almost said, then bit his tongue almost hard enough to make it bleed. “Nevermind, not going to jinx us. Come on, let’s try an’ get some sleep?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, leaning into Bucky’s side. “I figure we’ve got about half an hour before she gets hungry.”

_Oh, yay._

***

Rhodey turned up two days after Thanksgiving with a huge bag of tupperware full of Thanksgiving leftovers from his Mama for Tony and Bucky, and orders to take _all the pictures_ of the baby to send back to her.

Tony obligingly held Liv for Rhodey’s camera while Bucky rearranged the fridge to fit Mama Rhodes’ food. And then dragged Bucky in for a group photo.

“We’re just gonna have to do another set when Billie gets back from her little friend’s house,” Rhodey warned them. “You know Mama won’t stand for leaving her out.”

Billie had been over to Kendra’s house every day that week. When they’d first brought Livvy home from the hospital, Billie had been utterly enchanted, hovering over the baby every spare moment and gleefully reporting each sleepy blink, waved limb, or facial expression with excitement generally reserved for particularly riveting playground drama.

A few weeks in, though, and Billie had realized that Livvy was still too young to do much of anything except sleep and cry; she couldn’t even reliably hold onto toys and wave them around. Kendra’s little brother was old enough to play peekaboo and chase around after them on his chubby little legs.

Add in that, if Billie was present when Livvy started to cry, Tony or Bucky would inevitably send her on an errand -- “Go an’ get me the diaper bag,” or “Can you fix up a bottle for us, buttercup?” or “Do me a favor and go rinse off the binkie.” -- and some of the excitement had begun to wear thin.

The fact that Kendra had recently gotten a new skateboard had sealed the deal, Tony suspected.

“You’d think they’d seen each other enough at school,” Bucky said. “Not like me an’ Steve didn’t do practically th’ same thing.” He gestured to the land-facing windows. “Used t’ be able see his daddy’s trailer from here, ‘til it burned down, few years after we took Steve in. Place was a hellhole, so Steve was always here.”

Tony made a face. “I didn’t have any friends in walking distance,” he admitted. “I like that Billie does, and hopefully Livvy will, too.” He folded onto the couch, the baby tucked into his arm. “Speaking of friends and daddies,” he said, “we’ve got a question for you, Rhodey.”

“That is an ominous beginning,” Rhodey said, “and you promised we’d never mention that one thing with the sorority pledges.”

Tony laughed. “No, I’m a responsible parent-type these days,” he said. “And I, we. We just wanted to ask if you’d consider agreeing to be Liv’s godfather.”

“You’re one of Tony’s best friends in th’ world,” Bucky said, “an’ just about th’ only one we ain’t already practically livin’ on top of. We… were kinda hopin’ for a little… extra familial ties.”

Tony had seen Rhodey in a lot of situations, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend utterly at a loss for words and teetering on the edge of tears.

“Are you for real right now?” Rhodey asked. “Don’t you be fuckin’ with me, Tones.”

“I’m for real,” Tony promised. “Here. Sit back and hold your goddaughter, and I’ll take a picture for you to send your mom.”

“I’m almost scared to ask what kind of jokes you’ve pulled on him before that _that_ is his go-to thought, baby,” Bucky said, messing up Tony’s hair. “But every time I ask those questions, I get told _sworn to secrecy_ and _honestly, what did people expect there was alcohol involved_.”

Tony grinned. “At least half the time it was his idea,” he pointed out. “Our relationship in college was a web of borderline fatal practical jokes strung together with brotherly affection.”

“Annoyance,” Rhodey corrected, carefully taking Liv from Tony’s arms. “More annoyance than affection. I want that on record. Aw, ain’t you just the prettiest little thing?”

Tony rolled his eyes. Rhodey had adopted Tony about half an hour after they’d met, and proceeded to spend the next two years complaining about every damn thing while clinging fiercely to Tony’s side. Right up until Ty had pushed Tony into putting some distance between them. “That’s because she takes after her dad,” he said, just because he knew Rhodey would have to argue with him.

Bucky directed a sappy, affected look at him. “Seems only fair that one of our kids should look like one of us. I swear, Billie looks more like Loki _every damn day_. If she starts carryin’ a pocket watch, I may have to disown her.” He was patently unserious, smirking the whole time, but Loki’s affected mannerisms showing up on their daughter from time to time were just… weird.

“It looks good on her, though,” Rhodey pointed out with a smile that meant he was needling Bucky. “Another year or two and you’ll be beating boys off with a stick.”

“Given her prowess on the soccer field,” Bucky said, “might jus’ teach her where t’ kick.”

Tony winced. “That’d probably do it,” he admitted.

They got the brief warning of rapid footsteps on the stairs, before the door flew open, banged against the outside wall and let in a whirlwind of black hair and excitement. “Uncle Rhodey!” Billie yelled. “I _knew_ that was your car! How’s Miss Carol? An’ your mama? An’ --oh, sorry.” She said, noticing her sister, who was starting to get fussy and her voice dropped a few decibels. “Oh, oh, oh, _oh_! I did a frontside 180! Miss Sarah got a video, she said she was gonna send it to you, did she, did she send it, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, fishing in his pocket for his phone. “Hang on, let me look.” He pulled up the messaging app, and sure enough there was a short video waiting for him, of Billie doing something on a skateboard that was hard to discern on the tiny screen, but which he assumed was very impressive, at least for a nine-year-old. “That’s great, buttercup!”

She beamed at them all and made Tony pass the phone around so everyone could see how awesome she was, then leaned in close to Rhodey. “So, did they ask you? T’ be Livvy's grandparent?”

“ _God_ father,” Tony corrected. “Grandparents are genetic, that’s your Grandmama, for Livvy. Godparents, you get to pick.”

“Yes, and yes,” Rhodey answered. “Is that gonna be okay with you, Billie?”

Billie nodded a few times, her hair swinging in her face. “Yeah,” she said. “My Gram, she says that your heart’s not like a pie. You don’t cut pieces out til it’s all gone or nothin’. There’s enough of it for me, an’ Liv, and any other brothers and sisters and cousins I might have. Right?” She gave Rhodey her best puppy eyes, which were, Tony had good reason to know, startlingly effective.

“That’s just right,” Rhodey agreed. “Come sit up here next to me and let your dad take a picture of you and your sister for my Mama?”

Billie made a face, then, “gimme a minute? My hair’s a fright!” and dashed off to the bathroom, gesticulating wildly about people who expected her to be _presentable_ and _photogenic_ right after she was on her _skateboard_.

Bucky heaved a great sigh. “I don’t know how that happened, but she absolutely takes after your mom, Tony.”

“Because Mom spoils the crap out of her, would be my guess,” Tony said.

Billie came out, hair pulled back in a neat braid, and she’d been raiding her Big Sister Welcome Package (that was Jan’s idea, and it had been brilliant) and was wearing a light glittery lip gloss. She perched on the side of Rhodey’s chair, so as to not wake up the baby and leaned against him. “There. Now you have th’ two prettiest girls in Sandbridge sittin’ with you.”

“I sure do,” Rhodey agreed, handing his phone over to Tony. “Take a couple of good ones, Tones.”

Before he gave the phone back to Rhodey, Tony made sure to text the pictures to himself.

Bucky nodded significantly. “She’s gettin’ her flirt on and she’s not even ten. Big stick, accurate kicking.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Bucky was pretty sure that there should be an engineering degree available specifically for assembly of baby stuff. There was way too much of it, none of the directions made sense, and absolutely all of it needed different tools to fit together.

The portable bassinet used an allen wrench, while the stroller contraption-thingie that went under the car seat had a custom lock-and-tighten mechanism. And absolutely every piece of it was supposedly “within fault tolerance” in the opposite directions, meaning screws were either too tight, or bolts were too loose.

Bucky glanced up at the clock. They’d gotten a late baby present from Tony’s friends Bruce and Betty, who hadn’t been able to make the shower because of class schedules. A space-themed baby mobile, and Bucky was determined to get it together and put up before Tony got home from class, blinked at it, and the thing auto-assembled itself.

He was not having a lot of luck with that goal, and was even starting to hope that there would be a kitchen emergency that would require his presence downstairs so that he could leave the thing in pieces on the floor when he heard Tony and… Jan? on the balcony.

“..ood timing on my part,” Jan was saying. “I hate trying to carry them both, and you know Henry, he’ll crawl up and down the stairs for hours if you let him. Until he falls on his head, mind.”

“Happy to help, though -- oof, your two seem _enormous_ after carrying Livvy around,” Tony said. The door rattled and then opened and Tony came in with Jan’s son on his hip and his backpack over the other shoulder. “Hey, babe, how’s-- Oh, boy, that looks diabolical.”

“Bruce sent it,” Bucky reported. Too late now. Tony was going to enact his super powers. On the other hand, Bucky had completely managed to get Liv to fall asleep without rocking her for two hours, which was something of a small miracle these days. “The wind-up music box plays the Star Trek theme. There’s a card around here somewhere, too, with a giftcard inside.”

Jan laughed. “Your friends are just as nerdy as you are.” She scowled at the pile of bits and pieces on the floor. “Here, take Hope --” and Bucky got an armful of wiggly girl “--and I’ll go get the playpen, so you don’t have to pick up your mess.”

“You c’n set it up in Billie’s room, if you want,” Bucky suggested. “She’s been hiding in there watchin’ YouTube since I started tryin’ t’ get this damn thing together.”

“Was there cursing?” Tony asked, amused. He slung his backpack onto the couch and dipped low to scoop up the assembly directions, making Hank giggle adorably. “God, I love Bruce. It’s probably a good thing he’s straight, or I wouldn’t have been single when I met you.” He turned the instructions over, looking for the beginning. “Oh, great. Engrish. No wonder you’re struggling.”

“Oh, I gave up readin’ the directions a long time ago,” Bucky said.

Jan was back with the playpen tucked under one arm. “I’m going to have biceps for days,” she complained, stepping over the pile of bits and bobbles. “Hey, Billie, honey, do you mind if we set the twins in with you for a bit? I need your dads for a bit of moral support.”

Billie pulled one earbud out of her head. “Will it involve more cursing?”

“Probably,” Jan said.

“Okay. I’ll look after ‘em,” Billie said. “An’ make sure Uncle Bucky doesn’t corrupt anyone.”

Bucky scowled. “Did your father say that?”

Billie blinked at him as if she had absolutely no idea whatsoever what Bucky was talking about. Ug. More conversations with Loki. Just what he wanted.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Billie. If it looks like it will take too long, one of us will come help you out, but you’ve got this for a little bit, I know.” He flashed her a grin, then handed Henry over to Jan, with some difficulty, as the boy was clinging to his shirt and his ear.

Billie was already turning her computer monitor to face the playpen. “So, this… this is Jacksepticeye,” she was telling the twins.

“Do I even want to know what that is?” Jan asked as they made their way back into the living room and she flopped onto the sofa with an unexpected amount of vigor.

“Video blogger. I am not cool enough to know more, apparently.” Tony took the mobile instructions with him to sit on the floor opposite Bucky, and picked up the little half-completed bit Bucky had managed to do. “You go ahead and do your thing, hon. I’m here for you. I’m just going to figure this out while I listen in.”

“What are we doing?” Bucky asked, checking the floor to make sure none of the parts had wandered off while he wasn’t watching them.

“Providing moral support,” Jan said. “Hank’s been calling for the last two days and leaving progressively more pathetic voicemail.”

“You’re calling him back?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t…” Jan said, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t make that judgy face at me. I’ll remind you that you used to wear ill-fitting jeans and ugly tee shirts.”

She was calling him back. Jesus Christ. Bucky pulled his customer service expression out. “Okay. Whatever you need.”

Tony mimed throwing something at him. “Behave. We have a plan.” He gave Jan a stern look. “Stick to the plan.” He frowned at the loose parts. “There’s a screw missing? ...No, there it is. Why doesn’t it look like the picture?”

Jan took a couple of deep breaths, tucked her earpiece into her ear, and punched a few buttons on her phone. It barely had time to ring before Jan said, “Hank. Yes, it’s me. Listen--” She made a face, rolling her eyes up briefly, then “--no. _You_ listen. I’m setting conditions for this conversation, so you listen before you break all of them in the first words that come out of your mouth, okay? Okay.”

Tony looked up from the mobile and gave her a grin and a thumbs-up.

“She’s not seriously thinking of going back to him, is she?” Bucky asked, sotto voce.

“She’s thinking,” Tony replied very quietly, “of laying down the terms under which she’ll consider going back. We’ve talked about this some, off and on. Usually when it’s my turn to be up with Liv at night.”

“Don’t interrupt me, or this conversation is over. I will let you know when it’s your turn to talk. Right now, I want you to listen. Can we do that, Hank?” Jan grabbed one of the pillows off the sofa and hugged it. “So, first of all, I’m at Tony’s house. And Tony and Bucky are right here, with me. If you get hostile, or I get upset, I will put you on speaker phone. Yes. Yes, I spoke with both of them about what happened. No. No, I didn’t make up any more excuses for you, Hank. You hit me. They both know that. You can deal with those consequences.”

Bucky handed Tony the screwdriver and his hand ached from clenching it, when he let it go. “Look, I think this is the top piece. I know it don’t look like the directions, but look… the hook thing fits in here. I think the directions are for some other kit?”

Tony flipped the directions over again, and then turned them upside down, studying the picture. “Yeah, you might be right. Abandoning this shit was clearly the right move.” He tossed the paper aside. “Okay, I am an actual genius with almost-a-degree in mechanical engineering. I can do this without instructions.”

“Well, it’s your actual remorse, Hank, that has me considering it,” Jan said. She was twisting her hair through her fingers while she talked, yanking on the locks from time to time. “I know, honey, I do. But baby, there are doctors for things like that. You can’t help that your brain doesn’t work right, I know. But you can’t just quit on your medication, and you can’t get mad at me when I ask about it. If you’re not willing to put the work in to get as close to in control as you can be, I can’t… Hank, what happens when you decide to hit one of the twins?”

Bucky drew in a breath, hard and furious and… reached out for Tony, put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Why’s this gotta be complicated? It’s not complicated. He _hit_ her. Fuck.”

Tony lifted a hand to brush his knuckles down Bucky’s cheek, sympathetically. “He’s also, by all accounts, a hard worker and a doting father and a generous lover -- when he’s got himself under control, anyway.” Tony shrugged. “The world isn’t black and white, baby. How many second chances have we both had? It’s Jan’s decision whether he deserves that chance, not ours.”

“No,” Jan said, firmly. “No, he doesn’t get a say in this, and I don’t know why you listen to my father. All right, then. Here are my terms. For the time being, I’m going to stay in Virginia. I have a nice little apartment picked out. But you can come down and visit me, on the weekends, if you want. These visits will be supervised, for a while, and you will stay in a hotel. No, Hank, it’s fair and reasonable. But-- you have to go back to your doctor, you have to go back on your medication. If I have reason to suspect you’re not doing these things, we’re done.” She took a long, deep breath and then her voice shook when she said, “Of course I love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be considering any of this. Hank, honey. I want you to _get better_. Just think how much easier everything would be if you don’t have to fight your brain at the same time as you’re dealing with everything else. Let me help you, okay? I know. I know you hate it, and I know you feel-- I know. I know. I love you, too.”  

Tony scooted closer to her and reached up to take her hand. Just in time, too, from the way her knuckles turned white. The look he gave Bucky was sad and determined. “Stay strong, Wasp.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Jan said. “Look, you’d want me to get care if I… dunno, had diabetes, or cancer, or something, right? It’s the same thing. Yes, the medication makes you feel weird. I don’t think there’s much out there that doesn’t. Even aspirin has side effects. Well, work with your doctor to find something that’s more acceptable. No. Not this time, Hank. You have to earn back my trust. That’s just the way it works. Make the appointment, get back on your medication. And then you can come and see the twins. And me. Oh. Okay, yes, that’s reasonable. Thank you, Hank. Sure. Pictures. And I’ll call. Every night. Promise. Love you, too, baby.”

Bucky was staring so hard at the pieces of mobile, rather than what he wanted to do, which was rip the phone out of Jan’s hands and toss it down the disposal. But that wouldn’t make him any better than Hank, would it? Thinking he knew what was best for Jan, without consulting her on it? Oh! Oh.

Bucky picked up a slender rod from the stack, pushed it through the top piece, into the mobile’s cross-arms, and then screwed on the cap. “Hey, look at that,” he said.

“Huh,” Tony said. “How did you... Nice job, babe.” He leaned forward, without letting go of Jan’s hand, and handed him a little spaceship. “Here, I think that’s the one for the topper.”

“Yep,” Jan said. “Tomorrow night. And I’ll text you a picture; the twins are in with Tony and Bucky’s older girl. Oh, yeah, you don’t know about that, do you? Yeah, they’ve got a new baby. Olivia. I’ll pass that along. Well, I’ll ask. Okay. Okay. I love you. Goodnight, Hank.”

Tony took a breath and turned to face her. “How’d he take it?”

Jan made a helpless little shrug. “He’s… well, he’s not angry? I guess that’s an improvement.” Her mouth turned down, muleish. “I… we’ll see. He said he’d try, but I’ve heard that before. So I guess we wait and see how the followthru goes? He said to tell you two congrats on your new daughter and asked me if I’d take a picture. I said that was up to you.”

Tony huffed. “I guess. I’m sure Mom’s passing pictures around her entire social circle already anyway, so if he really wanted to put his hands on a picture, your dad’s probably already seen more than he cares about.” He glanced at Bucky, eyebrow raised.

Bucky wasn’t quite sure what his face was doing, because Jan’s eyebrows went way up. He didn’t want -- did not want -- to give Hank anything he asked for. To deny him a place in their lives, because he’d damned well done enough. “You can send him one of the ones you already got,” he said, finally. “She’s sleeping right now an’ I don’t want her to wake up.” And he didn’t want Hank to have a picture that was… just for him. It seemed wrong, and awful, and Bucky had no idea how to express any of it. So, that was the compromise he could come up with, between Jan’s hopeful smile and Tony’s understanding squeeze against his knee.

Tony nodded. “That’s reasonable. Thank you, honey.” He leaned across the partly-finished mobile to kiss Bucky gently. “Love you,” he murmured.

“It’ll be okay,” Jan said. “At least I’m going into this with my eyes open, this time. I… it’ll be okay.”

Bucky just nodded, not sure who Jan was trying to convince. But Tony was right. It was her decision, and what kind of friend would he be, if he turned his back on her now. “You can always come back, if you need to,” he offered. “We’ll always be here.”

“We’ll trade off babysitting,” Tony agreed. “I’ll even let you redecorate the apartment, and everything.”

Jan put her phone aside and then threw herself off the sofa into both of them. “You two are the best, you know that, right? Just the best friends I could possibly ever need to have, and if you don’t stop being so sweet and generous and just… I’m going to cry all over you and my mascara is going to run, and this is the first time I’ve put makeup on in months, so don’t you dare make me cry!”

Tony laughed, somewhat wetly, as he returned Jan’s hug. “What am I supposed to do, pull your pigtails and ask why I can’t wear plaid and stripes together again?”

The scowl that Jan gave Tony then was legendary and terrifying. “Anthony Stark-Barnes!”

Bucky decided cowardice was the better part of not getting throttled by Jan Van Dyne and scooched away from them. Blinked. Picked up another piece of the mobile and twisted the whole thing together. “Hey… look at that?” He wound up the music box and the sounds of Alexander Courage’s signature piece chimed out into the room in tinny little notes.

Tony looked around with wide eyes. “You did it!” He beamed. “Now who’s the genius?”

Bucky exchanged a glance with Jan, then, in very nice stereo, they both said, “Billie.”

***

Darcy had gone home immediately after her four week postnatal check up, the last doctor’s appointment that the three of them went to as a unit, mostly to see that Darcy’s girl bits were getting back in shape, and to check on her frame of mind.

She’d been eager to spend time with her parents and siblings after so long an absence, and wanted some time to rest and recover, all perfectly understandable. Still, the lack of her presence around Dockside had been an adjustment.

They kept in touch, emails, or texts mostly, despite the cautionary tones of a few well-meaning acquaintances who’d told stories of surrogates deciding to go back on their word and attempt to take the child away.

Liv was about four months old when Darcy sent Tony a plaintive email.

_Can I please come for a visit? I applied for an extended doctoral program for a reason and that reason was so I didn’t have to spend months with my mother. Ug. I just need a breather?_

_-D_

Tony was more than happy to have her; spring was on the horizon, but it was an annoyingly chilly March and Tony had been feeling restless for days.

_Please come asap, we’re bored to death here without you. I’ll throw out whoever’s in the rental house and you can stay there, or you can take your pick of hotels; this is the slowest time of year except for late January I swear._

He sent the email and went in search of Bucky to tell him the good news.

Bucky’d made some ridiculous commentary about Tony turning Dockside into South New York -- Maria and Jan had both been in and out all winter -- but seemed just as eager to see Darcy as Tony was.

When she finally showed up -- her flight got delayed for weather, and then delayed again -- she was back to her schlubby poet look, wearing an oversized sweater and a tartan pattern beret that barely perched on top of her wild hair. “This is all your fault,” she said, pulling a handful of curls and brandishing them at Tony. “I never had curly hair before I got pregnant. Look at this! I have a jewfro.”

“It suits you, though,” Tony said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Come on, Billie’s been about to vibrate right through the floor with excitement. What did you bribe her with?”

“What, my shining personality not good enough?” Darcy laughed. “Is it weird that this isn’t weird? I mean, it’s weird, right? Everyone keeps telling me that I wasn’t supposed to get attached, and… I mean, I’m not. Liv’s your daughter, not mine, and everything. I don’t know that I’m ready for my own baby, anyway. I mean, me? Really? Poor kid would grow up in my mother’s attic, and we’ve all read that book, right? No, really, my mom’s great, she’s just… suffocating. But. I dunno, I missed you. And Bucky. And just… everyone else.”

Tony hugged her again. “We missed you, too. It’s only as weird as you want to make it, really. I was told I should cut all ties with you once you left, because _obviously_ No Woman Is Complete Without A Child and you’d come back and steal Liv from us or some such horrible nonsense. But you have grad school to finish, and no offense, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the maternal type. Maybe it’s something you have to grow into? I don’t know, but I spent a lot of time rolling my eyes. It would seem weirder to keep you away, honestly.”

“Good, good,” Darcy said. “I wanna be, you know, a little part of Liv’s life. I’d like her to know who I am, eventually. But no, not very maternal. I haven’t even managed to keep a plant alive.”

“To be fair, plants don’t scream bloody murder when they’re hungry.”

“If they did, we might be a little less casual about keeping them on windowsills,” Darcy pointed out. She turned the subject then, asking Tony about his classes, and Bucky’s projects with the food truck and campus kiosk, catching up on the gossip and in between complaining about her mother, and how she’d forgotten that snow didn’t stay pretty _at all_ in the city. She mentioned a guy she’d gone out on a few dates with, but he was… “I don’t know. Too nice. How is someone too nice? I don’t know. It freaks me out, a little.”

“No, I get it,” Tony said as he led the way up the stairs to the house. “If they’re _too_ nice, you start wondering what they’re hiding. I don’t trust someone without a dark side.”

“Or they’re not hiding everything, they’re just perfectly… perfect. Which is weirdly sort of boring,” Darcy decided. “I don’t think I’m going to go out with him again, but I don’t know how to tell him that, so, another reason to come visit. Gives me some time to plan a nice ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech or something.”

She might have said more, but Billie wasn’t that patient, and the door was flung open, smacking hard into the wall before bouncing off. “Darrrrrrcy!”

“Oh, look at that! I can hug you again without squashing your sister,” Darcy said. “How’s school? Have you blown anything up recently?”

“No,” Billie sighed, sounding put out about it. “But!” She perked up again. “Wait’ll I show you the plans for the robot club this year! It’s gonna be EPIC!”

“Well, that means my younger brother is ahead of you. He’s seventeen, waaay old enough to know better, but he put regular dish soap in the dishwasher. You never saw such a mess.”

“Do not encourage her, thank you,” Bucky called from the other room. “Explosions are allowed only in lab conditions.” He came out into the living room, Liv on his shoulder with a burp cloth tucked in place, and directed a pointed look at Tony, which was just patently unfair. He hadn’t blown anything up in _ages_. And it had totally been Billie’s fault.

Tony pouted at him. “You’re no fun,” he said, then leaned in to kiss first Bucky, and then the top of Liv’s head. “You realize you’re just begging for me to decide to convert the apartment into a suitable lab, now.”

“Have fun with that,” Bucky told him. “I’ll put that hideous robot of yours over there and you can blow Dummy up.” The one toy that Billie hadn’t yet been able to steal from them was the one that Bucky had won for Tony at Busch Gardens years ago.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony said. “Dummy will help me blow other things up. It seems like something that would be in his area of expertise.” He grinned at Darcy. “As you can see, the weirdness never stops.”

“It’s _wonderful_ ,” Darcy said, eyes wide and overly-sincere. “You just don’t appreciate it. Everything at home is so… normal.” She hesitated, then held out her arms to Bucky. “Can I?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, easily enough. “Grab a cloth, she’s been really spitty today.” As soon as Liv moved over, she started hiccuping again, which was hilarious. And the baby always seemed so shocked by it, like she didn’t get the hiccups all the time. Her tiny mouth made a perfect little O of surprise and she hiccupped.

Billie jumped up and down, clapping and giggling. Tony rolled his eyes, but he had his phone out and was taking pictures, so he probably shouldn’t try to say anything out loud.

Bucky took advantage of having a free hand to get dinner into the oven; he’d made some alterations to Maria Stark’s lasagna recipe and come up with something that was about four times better -- Billie was even willing to eat it with only mild complaining (after she’d scraped out the ricotta). Not that Tony would have ever told his mother that. He mixed up some garlic monkey-bread and cracked a bottle of wine. (Bille got sparkling grape juice, which she deemed acceptable, especially after Bucky let her taste the chardonnay and she made a horrific face over it.)

Tony took Liv when she got fussy, bouncing and swaying with her on his hip while Darcy leaned back into the cushions of the couch and looked smug for having positioned herself as someone who got to hand off the fussy baby instead of having to deal with it.

“Tell me what your plans are, now,” Tony said, once Liv had calmed again. “Are you going back to school in the fall?”

“I’m not taking classes right now,” Darcy said, tucking her feet up under her. “And I got the exception, so I’m defending my thesis this spring, but that’s all I have to do for my master’s.” She flapped her hands around. “I don’t know. I kinda want to go on and pursue a doctorate, but the programs that have openings for me just sound… dull.”

“What about that internship that you almost got before you came here?” Tony asked, making a face at Liv to hide his own not-very-subtle “innocent” expression.

“Dr. Foster?” Darcy sighed. “Yeah, I hear she’s got a whole year’s worth of time at the Very Large Array. Now _that’s_ exciting. Listening to quasars. I always kinda wanted to be an astronaut, right up until I saw how they have to wash their hair. _Ug_. Now I’ll just stay on earth and wait for aliens to come to us.”

“It could be worse,” Tony pointed out. “My friend Bruce, his girlfriend’s field of expertise is algae.”

Darcy shuddered delicately. “Sounds gross. Algae’s all slimy. And it smells weird. I mean, I suspect planets probably smell weird, too, but as they haven’t invented a telescope that records that data, I don’t need to worry about it for a while.” She sighed. “My mom wants me to… well, I got a job offer as a high school science teacher, that my mom’s cousin is the principal there, which, yeah, I _guesssssss_.”

“There are worse ways to pay off your student loans,” Tony agreed. “On the other hand, you never know what could happen. It’s weird how small the world can be, right? Bruce was a consultant at the VLA this semester to help them identify radiation signatures of aging star systems, and he actually met Dr. Foster while he was there.”

“--ug, jelly!” Darcy complained, taking another gulp of wine. “I bet that was cool. Lots of scholarly research article possibilities there. And maybe even something someone will _read_.”

“Unlike his usual work on gamma radiation,” Tony agreed, “which-- I love Bruce, but _snore_. But it turns out that star systems emit gamma radiation in these fluctuating patterns that... Well, I’ll wait and let you read the article when he publishes. I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you. But, y’know, he mentioned to me that it was really weird how _understaffed_ Dr. Foster’s lab was.” Tony raised his eyebrows at Darcy.

“Is not,” Darcy said, scowling suspiciously. “Dr. Foster took on this guy… Ian? I think his name was, in my place. And there were two other assists, that had been with her for a while. Blake and… Dr. Erik Selvig?”

Tony nodded. “That was a year ago, though. So much can happen in academia in a year. I understand that Blake moved on, and he hasn’t been replaced yet.”

“ _Seriously_?” Darcy almost bounced in her seat. “I wonder if… oh, lord. I mean, she said I was the top candidate, maybe--” Darcy twisted her fingers together for a minute then-- “Where’s my laptop, I should at least send an inquiry. That wouldn’t be too forward, do you think?”

Tony bounced Liv and nodded solemnly. “You definitely should do that. Or, possibly, I might have had Bruce already ask on your behalf. Since he’s sitting there anyway. You know. Not much else to talk about.”

“Tony… what did you do?” Darcy’s voice spiralled up.

“Don’t kill my husband before dinner,” Bucky said, dragging the tray out of the oven and filling the house with the smell of Italian sausage and homemade pasta sauce. “And after dinner, you’ll both be too full to kill anyone.”

“I’ll sit on him,” Billie volunteered. “An’ you can hit him with a cushion.”

Tony sighed and flipped through his phone one-handed, calling up the email he’d had from Bruce. “I try to be nice,” he lamented, “and this is the thanks I get...” He loaded the email and handed the phone to Darcy to read.

“I don’t want to kill him,” Darcy said, scanning through the email. “I want to kiss him, but I don’t think your Uncle Bucky would like that all that much.”

“I can still sit on him,” Billie pointed out.

“Try sitting at the dinner table, first,” Bucky suggested. “And let everyone get some garlic bread before you shove the whole thing in your facehole.”

Tony grinned at Darcy, who was re-reading the email with an increasingly excited expression. “I thought you deserved a bonus.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For our smut-averse readers: Skip everything after the first scene break.

“Your mother’s here,” Bucky reported, peering out through the drapes. He’d already guessed as much when Billie looked down at her phone, squealed, and was out the door, leaving the screen banging against the doorframe.

Tony adjusted his hold on Livvy, who gave him a stern look over the rim of the bottle she was noisily sucking down. “Already? She must have caught an early flight. Or bribed someone to add another direct flight from LaGuardia, or something. Do I want to know how many packages she’s unloading from the car?”

“I wonder, if I made people stay in th’ garage apartment maybe it’d cut down on th’ number of visitors we have,” Bucky mused. “Happy’s got a suitcase an’ looks like four bags. Th’ big paper ones.”

“She’s slowing down,” Tony mused. “Anyway, Mom would never stay in the garage apartment. She’d just buy the house across the street or something. Do _not_ suggest that to her. Even as a joke.”

“That’s the Parker’s place,” Bucky pointed out. “I don’t think they’re selling. An’ your mom hates it here in the summer. What’s she need with a house she wouldn’t live in most of the year? No, nevermind, I don’t think it would bother her in th’ slightest and then we’d have yet another place to look after.”

Maria was practically dragged into the house; Billie’d had another growth spurt and was almost as tall as Wanda, which drove Bucky’s waitress insane. Wanda had taken to pushing on the top of Billie’s head at odd moments, trying to squash her back into kid-sized.

“Good morning, darlings,” Maria said. “Apparently, I must admire a new robot kit, and then I will come back and give kisses.”

“Take your time,” Tony advised. “Livvy's only halfway through her lunch.”

Happy came in. “Mr. Stark-Barnes,” he said, “an’ Mr. Barnes-Stark.” He deposited two bags in the living room, one in the kitchen, and wheeled the suitcase and the last bag down to the master bedroom.

“Hang on, Haps, I should change the sheets in there,” Bucky said, and threw a wink at Tony.

Tony fought down a blush -- he didn’t often have any shame for his sex life, but in front of his mother, it reappeared. “By all means, announce it to the world,” he muttered, then raised his voice again to greet Happy and make small talk.

Livvy reached the end of her bottle and Tony wrestled it out of her grip, then tipped her up onto his shoulder to burp her. Livvy, who’d been learning how to grab things and hold them, took a handful of Tony’s hair and ear. And then burped into it. Yuck.

Bucky threw a load of laundry into the wash. “Hey, Mom,” he said, leaning in Billie’s doorway. “I got all th’ various pet instructions written out for you. Billie ought to know them, but just in case.” He grabbed their suitcase out of the hall closet -- the hell? -- and dropped it next to the coffee table. It thumped solidly, already packed.

Tony raised his eyebrows at his husband. “You’re already packed? Did we have somewhere urgent to go, or--?”

“Jus’ wanna get you out of the house before you get all _nervous_ ,” Bucky teased, though a hint of blush climbed up out of his collar. “Liv will be fine. Your mom will be fine. Billie is thrilled. And we’re going to have us a few days _off_.” Like Bucky was one to talk; it used to be like pulling teeth to get Bucky to leave Dockside in Steve’s hands for even emergencies. The restaurant was a lot less fragile than an almost six month old baby.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Tony said, and stuck his tongue out at Bucky like a fourth grader. “And I’m not _nervous_. Just a little bit, totally understandably, concerned.”

Maria finally escaped from the black hole that was Billie’s room. Billie was urgently attempting to explain Minecraft to her, before getting distracted by the bags in the living room. “Z’is all for Livvy?”

“I’m sure it’s not _all_ for your sister,” Tony said, lifting his eyebrows at his mother.

“Of course not,” Maria said. “Also, I found some of your dad’s old bot kits from when he was your age or thereabouts. Remember those, Antonio? I brought one down. Perhaps later, the two of you can figure out why he doesn’t run anymore.”

“Oh, which one? The arm, or the wheelie-bot with the--”

Bucky coughed, glancing between his husband and their older daughter, shuffling his feet. “We should think about getting going. I’m sure we can have a fascinating conversation about robots _later_.”

Tony banked the discussion of mechanical devices for a future date, since apparently Bucky was in some kind of major hurry to go ten minutes up the road and check into a hotel for a “staycation”. He kissed Livvy's cheeks, handed her over to his mother, and then tugged an only slightly-reluctant Billie in for a hug. “You’ve got our numbers if you need anything,” he reminded them.

“Thanks, Mom,” Bucky said. “Don’t let Billie talk you into anything too ridiculous. Her bedtime is nine o’clock. That’s nine in the _evening_. And that means shower at eight, not after bedtime.” That had been Billie’s trick recently, trying to get out of either bedtime or the shower, they hadn’t figured out which one yet. “And homework before she can go over to Kendra’s.” Kendra had been coming over to their place for most of last year -- Billie’s Playstation was a major draw, especially since she didn’t have brothers to share it with -- but the arrival of a baby had them both trying to find somewhere else to be, recently.

“Bring us presents, when you come back,” Billie said, hugging Bucky around the middle and squeezing.

Bucky kissed the top of Billie’s head. “Be good for your grandmother, an’ look after your sister, okay? We’re counting on you.”

That got the proud shoulders and straight spine. “I will!”

“Go, go,” Maria shooed them. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about anything. Have fun, Antonio. James.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Tony kissed his mother’s cheek and let Bucky herd him out the door, pulling the suitcase behind them. He waited until they were in Bucky’s truck and the engine running before saying, “You did pack for me, too, right?”

“Yeeeessss,” Bucky said, hedging just a little until Tony actually looked worried, before laughing. “Yes. I packed for you, too. Not that you need much… ain’t really plannin’ on being _dressed_ all that much.”

Tony laughed right over the pleasant buzz of warmth that curled around the base of his spine. “Is _that_ why you were in such a hurry to leave?”

Bucky cupped his hand on Tony’s knee. “Love our kids, baby, but I’ve missed havin’ you to myself sometimes, too. Jus’ you an’ me and a big bed and nothin’ to do?” They’d gotten really good at fifteen minute quickies; even on the few occasions that they tried to let Liv cry for a few minutes at night, Billie would wake up right away and knock on their door, in case they hadn’t heard it. It had gotten better -- Liv was sleeping at least five hours at a chunk, but she seemed to have some mysterious psychic power that told her when the worst time to get cranky would be and arrowed in on it with Clint Barton-like accuracy.

“That does sound good,” Tony admitted, curling his hand lightly over Bucky’s. “Think we can even remember how to take our time, anymore?”

“Well, if not,” Bucky said, squeezing, “we can go a second round. An’ you know, I thought we might stop by th’ garage an’ pick up your Studebaker, maybe take it for a drive up the parkway. You know… stuff that the kids won’t appreciate yet, or get in th’ way of. Jus’... want a few days for just us.” He gave Tony a heated look before turning his attention back to the road. The beaches weren’t jumping just yet, pre-Memorial Day, but enough so that the roads were busy.

They bypassed some of the more popular spots, ending up in a luxury hotel all the way at the north end of the beach in a good sized suite with an ocean view. Tony was sure the amenities were nice enough, the view was great, and the room service was probably spectacular, but as soon as the door closed behind them, Bucky had swept Tony into a fierce, hungry kiss, pressed him up against the door like it’d been a month since they’d seen each other.

Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and pushed his fingers into Bucky’s hair, surrendering to the kiss and letting Bucky map every inch of his mouth, nipping at his lips and teasing at the well-known sensitive places. When they finally broke apart to breathe, Tony rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “Hi there.”

“Hey yourself, Big City,” Bucky said. “Been five years t’ the day, now, since I first saw you, an’ you’re still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tony blinked. “Really? To the day?” He spun over the calendar in his head, and sure enough, he’d gotten off the bus in Virginia Beach five years ago, and found his way to Harry Rex’s hardware store, hoping to buy some juice and ending up nearly run over by a beautiful man with a can of paint. “Huh. That’s... That’s a lot of stuff to happen in five years.”

“Most of it’s been good, yeah?” Bucky was teasing at Tony’s skin, just over the collar of his shirt. “No regrets, takin’ a job sweepin’ the floor and bussin’ dishes. Can’t imagine my life without you, babydoll.”

Tony brushed his knuckles down Bucky’s cheek. “No regrets,” he agreed. “Even the not-so-good stuff was worth it, to end up here, with you.” He stroked his fingers down Bucky’s jaw and neck, then twisted them into Bucky’s shirt to pull him closer for another kiss.

“Love you,” Bucky said, and tugged Tony’s shirt over his head impatiently. His hands were all over Tony’s skin as soon as his chest was bare, light, brushing touches along his shoulders, his spine, around his ribs before coming to rest on his hips. Bucky pulled him in, closer. “Everything was worth it, t’ have you.” He nudged and pushed, making huge, appealing puppy-eyes at Tony until they fell together, onto the bed.

Tony worked his hands up under Bucky’s shirt, not pulling it off just yet -- slow, they were going to try to remember how to take it slow -- but feeling the soft, warm skin and the firm muscle underneath. Tracked his hands up Bucky’s stomach to tease at sensitive nipples, then sliding away as soon as Bucky’s breath caught. He felt each ridge and plane and knob of Bucky’s back, watched Bucky’s eyes darken and eyelids flutter with pleasure, listened to the uneven hush of Bucky’s breath. “Love you, too,” he said softly. “So much.”

***

Sometimes Bucky felt he’d spent every minute of the last five years wanting Tony. Not just the clean, hot feel of skin on skin, the burning desire that coiled around his spine, but just… wanting him. The way he laughed, the quick turn of his clever brain, the way his whole face lit up when he was smiling. Bad jokes and dubious taste in television. Every bit of him, bad moods and sarcastic quips and impatient scowls.

They’d joked about going slow, and Bucky wanted to, but at the same time, he really did not. He wanted to fall on Tony like a starving man at a banquet and take more than his fill of Tony’s sighs and kisses, the slick heat of his mouth. He nosed at Tony’s hair, found his ear and nipped the shell. If he worked his way down, slow, tasting everything about Tony that he loved, maybe he could keep from tearing Tony’s clothes off in the next two minutes and plowing him through the mattress.

He nuzzled behind Tony’s ear, then chuckled. “You know, Nat never did tell me what presents mean ‘I’d like to fuck you through the mattress,’” he said, remembering that long-ago conversation. “What do you think, Tony? What could I get you that would mean that?” He leaned back a little, let some cooler air sweep between them, tracing a finger down Tony’s sternum.

Tony looked amused. “Sex toys would probably get the message across,” he said. “Or that really great lube, maybe.” He smirked up at Bucky and worked his leg between Bucky’s nudging up against Bucky’s balls and cock, still frustratingly confined. “Lingerie?”

Bucky smirked. “Yeah? Last time I tried that, my damn corset didn’t fit anymore.” His old Rocky Horror stuff, left over from his underfed twink days; Tony had appreciated the photographs, but Bucky hadn’t been able to get into more of it than the shoes. But Jan… well, she had ideas. And a whole line that Bucky consistently refused to model for her. It was part of the reason he’d wanted to do the packing himself. “You wanna put the brakes on for a sec, I might have something for you.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Honey, if you have fancy undies to show me, I will wait as long as you need.”

Sliding off Tony was torture; Bucky got most of the way up, and Tony all sprawled out on the bed lured him back in for a long, slow kiss, with Bucky rutting up against his thigh. ‘Okay, okay,” Bucky said, pushing back and getting his legs under himself. “Gimme a few minutes, an’ shut the damn curtains.” He unzipped the suitcase, pulling out the discreet little bag Jan had brought him when he’d asked. “Oh, and special lube, you said.” Another bag, black plastic, and he tossed it on the bed where it bounced a few times, spilling out a bunch of sample packets of massage oil and lubes, both flavored and long-lasting, like a package of sex-confetti.

He toed out of his shoes, tossed his shirt in Tony’s general direction, and disappeared into the bathroom. He leaned against the door, breathing harder. He’d tried the outfit on once, when Tony and Billie had taken Liv and the dog for a walk and he had been pretty sure he’d be alone for at least fifteen minutes.

But he hadn’t said anything to Tony about it. And looking at himself in the mirror had been a combination of  being desperately turned on and furiously embarrassed at the same time. Of course, everything had fit, Jan would _never_ let him look anything but his very best. But the outfit didn’t leave anything to the imagination, either. (He would continue to not model Jan’s underwear line for her; there was no way he was going to be more than naked in a glossy magazine anywhere. Ever.)

Dark, sheer fabric, held together with little scraps of lace. It took him almost no time at all to get into it. His cheeks were burning furiously, the blush spreading down the column of his throat.

A tank top that left his midriff bare and a pair of shorts with open panels over his hips.

He grabbed the sheer robe that Jan had provided, belting it around his waist. He still looked like a cologne model and he felt utterly ridiculous. He took a few deep breaths, wet his fingers in the sink and blotted his face with cool water before shoving his hair back. Tony wouldn’t laugh at him. Probably.

He opened the door and stepped out.

Tony had obediently closed the curtains and was sitting on the end of the bed, still in his jeans, barefoot. It looked like he’d been sorting through the lube and oil packets, but he looked up as the door opened and a small handful of them slipped out of his fingers and fell to the floor. “Oh my god,” Tony croaked. He reached out his hands, wordlessly begging Bucky to step closer. “Oh. My. _God_.”

Bucky took a deep breath, held his arms out a little and turned in a slow circle, letting Tony see everything. He still felt silly, but the look on Tony’s face was worth it. He drifted closer, raised his hands to take Tony’s fingers. “You like it?”

“It’s _breathtaking,_ ” Tony said. His eyes were roaming all over, greedy. _Hungry_. “I’m sort of torn between tearing it off you and dragging you into the bed with it still on.” He pulled a hand free to trail his fingers down the edge of the robe, and then to trace the hem of the shorts through it, dragging the soft, gauzy material over Bucky’s skin. “You’re positively _edible_.”

Bucky hesitated, finger’s over the robe’s belt, then opened it up, letting the bathrobe fall to the floor. He pushed Tony over onto the bed, stepping between the vee of his knees. The fabric caught every shiver of Tony’s breath and the way it stretched over Bucky’s skin was a slow, subtle tease.

The way Tony was looking at him, hot and wicked and desperately turned on… this outfit, or something like it, was what Jan wanted to put him in, in front of photographers and makeup artists, with lights everywhere and foundation on his ass. No. He never wanted anyone to look at him the way Tony was looking right that second.

“Take me to bed, baby,” Bucky said.

“Yes,” Tony breathed, but he didn’t pull Bucky down with him immediately. He touched the dark fabric and toyed with the lace, every inch of it, it seemed, making the silky material slide over Bucky’s skin in a torment of sensation. His thumbs tested the open panels on the sides of the shorts, teasing underneath, just a little. His mouth closed over a nipple, licking right through the fabric until it stood up hard and aching for more. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Bucky pushed into the touch, hands going to Tony’s shoulder, carding through his hair, cupping at the back of his neck. Anything to keep Tony’s mouth where it was. Everything felt… so _different_ though the lingerie. The way it moved over his skin, the electric feel of Tony’s fingertips, gliding, practically frictionless. He wondered how it would feel over his dick and groaned at that thought.

Tony was so dumbstruck, Bucky wasn’t sure he was going to get anywhere with that. He kissed Tony once, twice, then crawled onto the bed; if Tony wanted to look, Bucky’d give him the full visual. He stretched, arching his back and then, deliberately, like he was practicing to be in a bad movie, cast a heated glance over his shoulder.

Tony shuddered, all over. “Jesus, you ought to be _illegal_ ,” he mock-complained, climbing onto the bed and covering Bucky as much as he could with his somewhat shorter limbs. He kissed the back of Bucky’s neck, then licked along the back collar of the top, grinding his hips into Bucky’s seemingly unconsciously. “God, I love you, you’re so...”

A sharp nip on Bucky’s shoulder, another lower, on his shoulderblade, and Tony’s hand was back at Bucky’s nipple, rubbing the fabric over it, skin hot under the cool material. Tony stretched up to catch Bucky’s mouth in a kiss, even as his hand wandered downward to toy with the waistband of the shorts.

“Here,” Bucky said. He rolled over and slithered down, working the button and zipper from Tony’s jeans. “This stuff is so slick, I…” His neck heated again but he just flipped his hair out of his face and gave Tony a direct look. “Want to know what you rubbin’ on me feels like, through it, before you peel me out of it, yeah?”

Tony’s eyes got darker. “Yeah,” he said. He helped shove off his jeans and his underwear, then practically tackled Bucky onto the bed, kissing Bucky heatedly as he wriggled into the cradle of Bucky’s hips. The first thrust of Tony’s hips, the slide of Tony’s cock against Bucky’s, was so smooth it almost felt like they were coated in lube, an easy glide with a strange doubled sensation of Tony’s heat and the cooler touch of the material. “Oh, fuck, that feels good.” Tony pushed up onto his elbows, watching Bucky’s expression. “You like that, honey?”

There weren’t words for the wanton thrill it sent through him, each brush of Tony’s body against his. “Oh, god,” he managed. “You keep doin’ that an’ I’m gonna pop off jus’ like that.” Which didn’t stop him from rocking up into it, the slippery lacework driving him absolutely out of his mind. The last of the flustered shame faded away, and all Bucky could care about was the heat in Tony’s eyes and the feel of his hands over the satiny stuff.

Tony groaned. “Do it,” he urged. “Want you to come for me like this, and then let me fuck you. What d’you think, sweetheart? Let me make you feel so good?”

Bucky didn’t have an answer; he let his hands skim down Tony’s back and grabbed a handful of Tony’s ass, yanking him tighter, moving them together with exquisite heat. He kept grinding up against Tony and there was no chafing, no resistance, just brilliant sparkles of pleasure. His whole body clenched up, shaking with need. He let go, arching up into it, his mouth dropping open as he moaned.

Everything… for just a moment, it was like touching the sky, brilliant bursts of joy. “Oh, god, _Tony_ ,” Bucky cried out. A lush rush of sensation and a bloom of heat against his skin. So good, so perfect. Bucky panted for breath, his blood pulsing through his veins as his heart beat double-time in his chest. “Oh, god…”

Tony slowed down, just a little, until the last of the aftershocks had faded, and Bucky was starting to flinch away from oversensitivity. “That was gorgeous,” Tony purred, and his fingers were slipping under the waistband again, gently tugging. “Let’s get these off you before it turns nasty, hm?” He worked the shorts down over Bucky’s thighs, then ducked in to lick a stripe up Bucky’s spent cock. “Mm, you taste so good.”

Bucky hissed through his teeth, squeaking when Tony got to the tip. His skin was a riot of sensation, hot and cold and too much and not enough all at once. Tony had that wicked little grin plastered across his mouth, eyes bright. Bucky squirmed the rest of the way out of his soaked shorts, then reached, taking Tony’s cock in hand and stroking up briskly. He thumbed over the head, giving a little squeeze. “How do you want me? Want… want you in me, wanna feel you all over.”  

Tony pushed into the touch with a soft moan. “Just like this,” he said, “so I can see you, yeah?” He squirmed down until he was laying between Bucky’s thighs, peppering kisses along the crease there. “Want to watch you fall apart again, maybe.” Another teasing lick along Bucky’s cock, lingering at the tip for a second or two.

Yeah, maybe when he was just out of school. “Some of us are old,” he complained, nudging Tony with one knee. He spread his legs wide, putting himself on display for Tony. “Hand me some lube, I’ll put on a show for you.” He ran a hand over the lacy tank, down his belly.  

Tony looked away just long enough to snatch up one of the lube packs, a long-acting type. He ripped it open with his teeth and offered it to Bucky, eyes wide. “You are the _best_ ,” he said fervently. “God, I love you.”

Bucky nudged and tugged until Tony was upright, his knees making a neat little ramp as he sat back on his heels. Bucky got himself situated, on his back, legs spread, back a little curved to accommodate, hips up. He smeared the lube on his fingers and reached back. Slow. They were going slow. Bucky took the time to warm himself up, slathered lube over his hole, pushing and pressing at the muscle there, the opening to his body.

It’d been a long damn time since he did that for himself, but his fingers knew the right patterns and pressures. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he stretched, breached himself with one finger. He couldn’t look away from Tony’s face, the way Tony watched him, avidly, gaze flickering back and forth between Bucky’s face and his busy hand. Deep tingles spun through his hips and groin and he used the other hand to rub his balls, tug a little at his flaccid cock. There was… oh, oh, he was chasing sensation, God, it felt good, and… he twisted his wrist, tugging at his own rim, opening himself up for Tony.

“Oh, god, you’re so gorgeous,” Tony whispered. “Look at you...” His eyes flicked back to Bucky’s face, and he smiled, warm and easy for a moment before he bit his lip. His hand was curled around his own cock, stroking slow and easy. “Want you, babe. Want you bad.”

Never failed to make him want, the way Tony looked at him, like he was something special. “Yeah, well, gimme a hand here,” he said, taking Tony’s wrist and directing one hand down. Bucky was loosening up, a little. He stretched, groaned, and accommodated a second finger, pushing both in ruthlessly. Bucky’s nose wrinkled up, the sensation punching a sound out of him, some sound, and then Tony got with the program, adding a third finger, sliding it in at a different rhythm, and that, oh, god, that was intense, so good and… “Oh… yeah, like that, baby, that’s so sweet.”

“Yeah? Glad to hear it.” Tony’s finger pulled out and thrust in again, curling against Bucky’s inner walls, seeking. “Want you to feel good, honey, that’s the whole point.” He twisted his finger and curled it again, watching Bucky’s expression.

He arched up as Tony poked lightly inside him, a spark of heat that radiated out, and he wanted, wanted. “Come on, come on.” he urged Tony, wanting Tony’s heat, the feel of him, to be filled up and stroked and rubbed. He wrapped his legs around Tony’s waist, tugging him closer. “Come on, baby, gimme…”

Tony scooted closer and picked up the packet of lube, smearing the last of it over his cock. “Going to make you feel good,” he promised, “going to fill you up and give you everything I can.” He teased a little at the rim, dragging the head of his cock over it to make it catch, just a little, until Bucky was squirming in protest. He sank in, then, a slow and steady slide. “Oh, _god_ , honey, you feel so damn good,” he swore. “So hot, so tight, I swear, I... _Fuck_.” He bent to lick at Bucky’s nipple again, the satin and lace a study in contrasts that felt like fire.

That… that was perfect. Sublime. Bucky arched up into it, thrusting himself up, onto Tony’s dick, like scratching an itch he didn’t even know he had until it was soothed. His heels dug into Tony’s back, encouraging more, faster, harder. Deep. _Oh, god_. Heat built in his spine, pooled into his groin. He reached, stretched, and Tony grabbed his hands, pushed him down into the mattress, holding him hostage to Tony’s will.

So goddamn good, and Bucky was groaning with each thrust, concentrating everything on the feel of Tony moving inside him that he didn’t even notice at first that his own dick was perking up until Tony increased the tempo and his dick bounced between his stomach and Tony’s. “Oh, christ,” he swore.

“I knew you could do it,” Tony teased lightly, and adjusted his angle just slightly, just _perfectly_ to drag across Bucky’s prostate with the next thrust. He let go of one of Bucky’s hands to stroke Bucky’s cock, a sweet twist at the head that made Bucky groan and swear again. “Want to feel you coming around me,” Tony said. “You can do it.”

Bucky wasn’t so sure; the heat built and built, and Tony was driving him to distraction with those sweet, perfect thrusts. He wasn’t sure, he _wasn’t…_ and then he was chasing heat, his body moving on its own without any direction from him, shifting Tony’s angle inside him until Tony was battering at his prostate and Bucky was clutching at the mattress to hold himself down.

He reached out blindly, dragging Tony down on top of him, kissing wet and messy and open mouthed, catching Tony’s mouth, his chin, his throat, whatever he could reach.

He threw his head back, pushing into it, as he was torn in half by the force of pleasure that wrecked him. His heart hammered in his chest, and he was practically screaming with it, everything in him clenching down.

“Oh god, oh _god_ \--” Tony’s thrusts stuttered and he tucked his head against Bucky’s neck, panting hard as he worked, and the sudden flood of heat and Tony’s trembling told Bucky that Tony had reached his climax, as well. “Oh, _fuck_ , you’re so...” Tony whined and thrust again, short, shallow movements to ride out the full strength of it. “God, I love you.” Tony collapsed onto Bucky’s chest, breathing hard.

Bucky shivered a few times, jolts of sensation, like a handful of fireflies, sizzled across his nerves. He let his eyes drift closed, utterly spent. “Pretty sure you jus’ wrecked me,” Bucky said, patting Tony clumsily on the shoulder. “Dead. Face of God, an’ all that.”

“No dying,” Tony mumbled, though he sounded like he was on the edge of dozing off, himself. “Got our whole vacation to enjoy.”

Bucky managed a weak chuckle. “Th’ _other_ thing I wanna do in bed,” he said. “Sleep for eight. whole. hours.”

“Mm,” Tony agreed. He nuzzled against Bucky’s neck. “Sounds good t’me. Think we actually can?”

Bucky squirmed a little until he was more comfortable, Tony serving as a perfectly good blanket. “Sure.” He left his arms around his husband and let the sound of Tony’s breathing chase him into his dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for this story! Stay tuned; next Tuesday we'll post a short story that was almost part of this but didn't quite fit, and then Thursday we'll begin posting My Three Dads.


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